Darkest Darkus
by RihnKuriko
Summary: In the year 221, nineteen years after the defeat of Alduin at the hands of the Last Dragonborn. The Dragonborn is gone, a full-scale war with the Thalmor has broken out, and another Dragon War looms on the horizon. Follow the son of the Dragonborn. He will lose family, struggle with his own mentality, and be forced to save his father's legacy. It's always Darkest before Darkus.
1. Chapter 1: The Path Home

Darkest Darkus

4E 221, 18th of Second Seed.

Blood and gore. Gore and meat. Meat and teeth. Those were the only thoughts echoing through his mind. He sat huddled by a rock, which was also stained with blood. The battlefield in front of him had been opportunity. Thalmor agents had managed to get so far into Skyrim, only three hours east of Falkreath. Twenty one soldiers. All of them ripped to pieces, parts of them completely devoured, bones stripped of flesh. A familiar scent entered his nose. He smiled.

"Hey." Lydia said, crouching down to him. He smiled weakly, trying to stand. His body wouldn't allow that. His bones and muscles still burned even after several hours of relaxing. "Here- I'll carry you." She picked him up and put him on her back. Lydia was already forty, too old to be carrying him.

"I shouldn't let you do this." He said. "You could injure yourself."

"If I hurt myself carrying you, I wouldn't be doing my job." she laughed, smiling at him. He looked around at the trees, the snow, the rocks. "Darkus, you've been gone for a week."

"I see…"

"It's the eighteenth. We're going to Whiterun, how does that sound?" she asked, smiling warmly. Darkus looked down at the ground. He was sixteen in two days, the length of time it would take for them to get to the central city. Lydia must have seen his grimace, as her smile also failed. "What 's wrong?"

"I can't help but wonder if my parents would be proud." He sighed, burying his face into her muscular back.

"Listen, we have to head out immediately after we get home." She said, rounding another corner. "You'll have to get dressed on the way." For the next two hours she carried him in silence, until they came upon Lakeview Manor. The coach waved to them, and they smiled back. "Whiterun Jork."

"Aye, ma'am." He answered as Lydia set Darkus down. Lydia set out a pair of leather boot, pants, and a cotton shirt. Darkus gave her a quick smile and began getting dressed.

"Your parents are proud of you." she said, ruffling his black hair. "They know what you've been through. You've had a rough life." Darkus finished putting his boots on, and looked back at the house.  
"You sure are fond of saying that." He said. "They're dead. They've been gone since I was four." Lydia gave him a pained stare. He was much taller than both of his parents, partly due to the fact that he was born a pure-blooded werewolf, and that also made him a good foot taller than Lydia too. He was thin, though he also looked like a monster with how defined his muscles were. However, the most striking thing about him was his face. He looked exactly like his mother. He had the face of a beautiful noblewoman, he had her icy blue, fire like eyes, and the straight black hair. He had no real defining traits from his father, the only exception being his violent and warrior nature. He always had to fight something.

"I say it because it's true." Lydia replied, tossing a sword to him. "Your parents are… alive, in a way. They had to fight an army of Dragons that would mop the floor with Alduin- trust me, I met the guy. Not exactly a basket of sunshine- and they destroyed them all, then they disappeared. They are alive." Darkus snorted, much like his mother used to.

"They ran out on me." He mumbled. "If they're really alive, then they ran out on me." Lydia sighed again.

"Anyways, I have to tell you that I'm leaving for a few months." She explained, grabbing his shoulder. "I'm going into Cyrodiil, on a military operation. Ralof and Hadvar are coming with me, don't worry." Darkus couldn't imagine why she would go there. The Thalmor had control of every province, with the exception of Morrowind, Elsweyr, and Skyrim. The only thing that kept them from absolute victory was the alliance between Ulfric Stormcloak and Maximus Tullius, who controlled the Skyrim Military. "I'll be back, okay?"

"Yeah," Darkus replied, looking toward the border.

"What's been going on with you?" she asked him, turning his face to her. "You've been getting steadily more passive aggressive for the last two years, exactly like your father." Darkus shrugged, breaking away from her. "Fine. you brought this upon yourself. Jork!"

"Yes ma'am?" He asked, turning his head only slightly.

"Stay at this steady speed, and don't be afraid. It's a good thing your pop left me with this-" She angrily sighed, stretching her back, arms, and neck. "Paarthurnax!" She screamed, releasing a wave of energy Darkus had never felt before. Within moments, a Dragon appeared from the clouds. "Jork, stay calm. He's with me." Darkus nearly jumped off of his seat when the the ragged reptile swooped down next to him. The beast turned, and began hovering.

"Greetings, Punah." The soothing deep monotone boomed.

"Don't call me 'female' Diiv." She coldly responded. The dragon bowed his head.

"Apologies, friend." He replied. From his tattered wings to his respect of lesser mortals, not to mention his name, Darkus realized that he was the dragon that trained his father. "Druv lost hi bel zey?" Lydia gave him a rather angry glare.

"I need you to tell me what's wrong with him." She replied, pointing to Darkus.

"Offspring? He is of natural naramriin age, it is normal-"

"No, not that." She interrupted. "Why is he becoming more like, well, more like you immortals?" the dragon leaned in and took a long sniff. "Oh, great."

"He has the soul of a dragon, similar to his bormah." Paarthurnax replied, turning his head to Lydia again. "It is, however, bruzah. It's fragmented; incomplete." Lydia groaned angrily, slapping her forehead.

"Thank you for the obvious uselessness, I want to know something more specific!"

"It is his drenkiin, his natural instinct to dominate." He answered, gaining a relieved sigh from Lydia. "It burns within him stronger than it does even me, maybe even enough to rival Alduin. However, he is geltkey, he cares about mortals too much. He wants to remind the joor that that's what they are- mortal, easy to kill, and cannot live forever."

"He wants to show them that he is above them?"

"To an extent." He replied. "He wants to prove himself suleykaar, powerful, yet he also wants to protect his ragnavir, family. He wants to help people that are good." Lydia turned to the dragon.

"You got all that from his eyes? I'm impressed." She laughed. "What news of the dragon army?"

"No advance."

"Now I know the truth then." Lydia said, grinning happily. "So they really did become part of the scrolls, didn't they-?" Paarthurnax began laughing. "What?"

"The Kelle wouldn't accept a dragon's soul, let alone tw mortal ones!" He barked. Lydia actually grabbed his snout, and pulled his eyes right to hers.

"Oh yeah? What about thousands of dragon souls? One World Eater?" She asked, grinding her teeth with seething rage. "They put a barrier around us, the dragons can't attack, even if they wanted to. The scrolls accepted my Thane's offer, and kept this continent safe for this long. But I can feel it, can't you? The air, which was rich with magic for the last fifteen years, since the day they disappeared. It's saying our time's up. We need to act soon." Paarthurnax sighed, realizing that she was right.  
"What would you have me do?" He politely asked. Lydia looked back at the shocked Darkus.

"Look after him. If he needs help, give it to him." She replied, placing her hands on her hips. "I want you to gather up any other dragon you can to fight by his side. The Dragon War will resume in less than six months. Darkus needs to be ready." Paarthurnax nodded and flew away. The two of them didn't talk until they were it was late evening on the twentieth; his sixteenth birthday. 


	2. Chapter 2: Nameless Wanderer

4E 221, 23rd of Second Seed

Darkus looked through the vast wilderness of Skyrim. He was still in whiterun long after Lydia left. He wondered what her and the dragon had talked about four days previous, why they were vague, why she was angry, and what Lydia meant by 'watch him'. He felt a hand fall on his shoulder and turned to see the face of Vilka, his best friend. She sat down on the edge of the rock next to him, and scanned the area around them.

"What are you looking at?" She asked. Darkus shrugged.

"Nothing. I'm just thinking of…" He began, turning to the tallest mountain in Skyrim. "...Leaving." She shook his arm, but he wasn't entirely there.

"What you mean, leaving?"

"I dunno. I know that i should stay here, because that's what Lydia told me to do, but my gut's telling me, begging me, to go North, to the Pale." He answered, looking at his feet. "It wants me to go on an adventure, or do something."

"You're leaving on a gut feeling?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know why you would, there's nothing out there. It's an empty wasteland full of beasts and bandits." She sighed as she elbowed his arm. "There isn't any reason to risk your life out there when there's nothing to do it for." Darkus gave a light chuckle.

"My pop once told me 'perilous adventure is out there' when i said the same thing. Of course, he said it in dovahzul. And trust me when I say, it didn't exactly translate properly." He replied, scratching his head. "That really is the only thing I remember about my dad. I can't even remember his voice, to be honest."

"What about your mother?"

"Let's see… I remember that she was a vampire. I look exactly like her-"

"You do look like a woman, now that I think of it." Vilka interrupted.

"-and I also remember that she had an incredible singing voice- she'd sing me the song of the Dragonborn to get me to sleep- and that she was incredibly scary." Varka, Vilka's twin brother laughed from behind them.

"Yeah, that's your mother alright," he chuckled, leaning against the wooden post next to Darkus. "She was always doing experiments and stuff, eh Vilka?" Vilka nodded. They were five when he was born, so they'd definitely remember his parents better than him. "So, what's this I heard about you leaving?"

"I don't want you two to follow me either," Darkus replied, jumping down to his backpack. He pulled the strap over his left shoulder, and waved. "Don't say anything to your mother; we both know that she'll track me down like- well, like a werewolf." Vilka watched him pull a light mask over his mouth.

"Wait, you said you were just thinking of leaving, how long has that been there?!" She asked, nearly falling backwards onto the ground. Darkus shrugged

"Dunno, two days…" he replied, beginning to walk off.

"This is not a good idea." he heard Vilka sigh behind him. He grinned to himself and broke into a run. After two hours of straight jogging, he finally stopped to eat something. He pulled an apple from his pack, and bit into it. He didn't like apples that much, in fact he preferred meat to fruit, but he ate it regardless. He couldn't explain why he had to leave because frankly, he didn't know either. He just… had to.

He could feel it get colder and colder as he walked further North. Being a werewolf, and also having the blood of a dragon in his veins, he couldn't freeze to death. He'd get cold, just like everybody else, but it would never kill him. Good for him, because he had soon realised that he didn't have a tent with him. He moved until it was night, by which time he had made it far enough that frost was on the ground, but not snow. He sat leaning against a tree trunk, closing his eyes after a short while, sword in hand.

He yawned as the morning light woke him up from his deep sleep. He rubbed his eyes, stood up, and immediately started walking North again. He took food out of his pack whenever he felt hungry, not stopping to rest as he went. At noon he'd reached the Pelagia farm, where Old Man Pelagia himself was smoking a pipe. He wove as he passed, and the old man wove back, with a slightly raised brow, almost as if he knew Darkus but wasn't quite sure. The reason he went to the farm in the first place was because a twenty minute walk from there was Heljarchen Hall, his old home, the one he hadn't been to since he was born.

"I guess I should check it out…" He said to himself, pushing the heavy doors open easily. He coughed a little from the dirt that rose from the floor. He looked through the poorly lit mansion, finding dirty and ragged clothes, blankets, and beds, but not much else. He went into the cellar, looking through every chest, container and chest in the room. Luckily for him, he found a tent. Granted it was worn, but it was good enough. Just because he couldn't die from being cold, doesn't mean he liked being cold. He hated being cold, wet, and just about everything in between. He tied the roll to his back, then left the house and continued on his way to Dawnstar.  
There was an old Fort that he had to go around, but he managed to get pretty far by the second day, passing the mountain entirely. He'd stopped in the pine forest, the trees of which were covered in a thick layer of snow, and set up his tent, lit a fire, and began cooking his dinner. When the moon finally rose over the trees, he went to bed. It wasn't as cold or unpleasant as the previous night, because of his tent, but it wasn't warm either.

About halfway through the night he woken up by a loud chiming.

"What the-?" He began, rubbing his eyes as he got out of his tent. The sound got louder and louder, forcing him to cover his ears. His vision blurred, and he dropped to one knee. He grabbed his longsword, and strapped in on over his armor, heading in the direction of the loud noise. He couldn't see anything, eventually causing him to trip over something and fall face first into running water. "Son of a bitch, that's brisk!" he rubbed his arms and waded through the waist-deep running stream. "What in Oblivion is running water doing way out here?"

The chime had suddenly started again, before dying down just as quickly. He turned his head left, finding that he was surrounded by bandits.

"What's a little kid like you doin out here?" one asked, a smug grin on his face as he drew closer to Darkus. "Hand over your valuables, n' maybe we'll let you live as our pet?"

"Tch." was Darkus' reply, as he reached for the sword on his back.

"He's got a weapon, get him!" someone from behind him yelled. His eyes widened as every single one charged at him. Without time to draw his blade, he rolled forwards, propelling himself feet first into the head of the nearest bandit, hearing a cracking sound. He turned around to intercept the stab attack from another enemy, bringing his arm forward, then slamming his fist into the back of his elbow, breaking his arm and taking his sword. He blocked another strike from a dagger, disarmed the wielder, then threw the dagger into the throat of another bandit. The sound of an arrow streaking towards him made him move an inch to his left, the arrow breaking the skin on his cheek, but hitting the neck of the enemy behind him. There were still several standing around him, and he could only see them if they got within ten feet. The only reason he knew where any of them were was because he could smell them.

"He ain't worth the risk!" one yelled, nocking an arrow. "Let's kill 'm n' be done with it!" darkus put the sword in his left hand, pulling his own from his back. The weight of the broadsword in his left hand was disorienting, as it was much heavier than the longsword in his right. The arrow loosed, flying past his head and bringing him back to his senses. He ran straight ahead, basing his strike on what he could smell, and swung high, his blade making a sickening crunch as it cut clean through the bone, sending the man's head into the air. The woman next to him slashed at his head, catching the second weapon that he held, though barely. The broadsword was much heavier than a normal broadsword, and he was unable to move it fast enough. He reversed his stance, stabbing her through the abdomen, and cutting the arm off of the next bandit. They dropped in sync, and he killed the next one by throwing the broadsword at them. He kneed the one-armed bandit in the head, and slashed at the last man standing. The enemy blocked his strike, which Darkus was ready for. Darkus kicked out his left knee, slashed his throat, and watched him fall to the ground. He slid the sword into the scabbard on his back, only to find that his hand was glued to its hilt.

"Blasted cold!" he cursed, pulling at them with his other hand. Then he tried from behind his head, accidentally getting his other hand stuck in the process. After four more minutes of walking, he tripped over something else, sending straight back into the water, which was much deeper, and dragged him farther downstream with its current. Finally ripping his hands away from the hilt of his sword, he sprang straight out of the water, running in circles due to his freezing cold body, crashed head-first into something else, and landed in the snow.

The chiming began again, and this time it was right next to him. He opened his eyes and turned to his left, where a blue and gold glowing orb floated mere feet away. He squinted in question, standing up to investigate it. He reached out to it with his torn up left hand, finding that it was very warm. His hand passed straight through it however; it was not a physical object.

"What are you?" he wondered, moving closer. As if in answer, the orb exploded, seizing his muscles, and blinding him almost completely. He dropped to his knees as blue and golden tendrils stretched from the orb and entered his body, forcing their way through his skin. It felt as though immense heat burned his body to a crisp, from the inside out, and once it passed it felt like he had eaten too much of something large, like an entire mammoth.

After what felt like hours of sitting there, he stood straight back up, nausea threatening to overtake him. He began walking through the trees once again, finding himself near a large hill. He felt a warm liquid on his stomach, feeling for it to see what it was. To no surprise, it was blood. A rock had cut up his armor pretty badly; several large gashes had opened on his stomach. He was feeling sick and light headed, but willed himself to stay awake. His wounds would heal in a few minutes if he did. He was also freezing his ass off, as well as his toes, fingers, lips, and nose. He rounded a corner, and was struck on the top of his head by something heavy. Or rather, someone.

"Ow, what the heck?" he asked to himself, opening his eyes. Once they focused, he saw two eyes of shining emerald green staring straight back into his icy-blue, swirling fire like ones. She immediately threw herself off of him, plopping back into the snow with a crunch.

"Sorry about that, please don't hurt me!" she yelled, waving her arms quickly. He focused on her with most of his strength, as he was starting to black out from the cold. She wore black leather armor from neck to toe, which was skin-tight, and ragged looking. She had a round face, straight nose, almond shaped eyes, and shoulder-length black hair, which was spiked at the bottom. She was about of average body size, very feminine, but she still gave the impression of a dangerous beast. Her hair wasn't parted, it was spiked down over her eyes in the front.  
"Don't worry about it. There isn't much I can do in this state anyways." he said, shaking from the chill overtaking his body. "I'm more worried about you, with your dark hair, snow white skin, and black outfit." she moved closer to him and felt his forehead, reeling back at his freezing skin.

"Gods, you're freezing to death!" she replied, an alarmed tone in her voice. Darkus laughed a little bit. He heard footsteps from behind him.

"Vala, what are you-?" another woman began, trailing off as she got closer. "Oh man, that's Darkus! Quick, help me get him to a fire!" he felt cold arms tighten around his midsection, and haul him up. The girl who'd fallen on him, Vala, grabbed his legs.

"Geez, he's heavy- do you know him?" she asked, breaking into a run. "Vale?"

"He's old man Al's kid!" Vale replied. "Pick up the pace, we gotta keep him alive!" Darkus felt warm blankets fall over his body, and fell unconscious moments later. 


	3. Chapter 3: Camping Cold

4E 221, 28th of Second Seed

Darkus felt strange. He was warm, yet knew he shouldn't have been. He should have been freezing cold, unconscious in the snow. He couldn't open his eyes to see anything; they remained tired and shut, and he couldn't move at all. It bothered him deeply. Then he felt it: a slight, yet sudden shift next to him. He knew that it was someone else, the scent of a Nord confirmed that, accompanied with the fairly muscle-defined stomach, thin frame, and smooth skin, yet what he'd failed to realise for a few seconds was that she was a werewolf, like him. She.

The sudden thought of having a naked woman warming him while he slept sent off every single radar in his head, pulling him out of his trance, and forcing him to leap to his feet. She was just as alarmed by his sudden outburst, screaming in shock as he soared into the wall of the fur tent. He was also completely naked, and covered himself up quickly to escape the biting cold. He shivered a little, but soon it passed, leaving him curled up in a corner of the warm shelter. The woman stood up as well, pulling on her thick leather outfit. At least she'd been wearing undergarments. He thought to himself.

"Hey! Take it easy take it easy!" she started crouching next to him. "You're gonna be okay, you hear?"

"Okay? I was perfectly fine!" he replied, attempting to stand on his own. She grabbed his arm and pulled him onto his feet. She was strong. She was also short. Close to Lydia's height, a half-head shorter than him.

"Bullshit, you woulda died." she argued, rubbing his frostbitten fingertips. He winced a little, but soon they healed, leaving no sign of frost behind. "Wait, how the-?!"

"I'm a pureblood; I don't freeze to death. Well, that's part of why anyways." he replied, hastily looking for his belongings, preferably his clothes. He found his pants, but not his shirt, boots, or armor. "God dammit, where's my stuff?" The girl handed him his boots, and his white cotton shirt. He put the boots and shirt on quickly. If she were Lydia's height, she'd be just clearing five foot six. Interesting.

He walked through the flap of the tent, greeted by the grey morning light. That and the biting cold of the snow. He rubbed his arms for a few seconds, before taking in his surroundings. He was in a camp of five good sized tents, a campfire in the middle of them all, and it was surrounded by large frosty pines. On the high, jagged rock off to the left of the camp, another person slept with a sword at their side. They must've fallen asleep while on watch, and judging from the black leather armor, and the fact that they're so well equipped that I can see it from down here, they're running from something. Darkus thought. I can't think it's city guards, the Thalmor are a more sound bet.

The Thalmor. Agents of the Aldmeri Dominion, the attackers of the Empire. After only forty years of peace with them, they took up arms once again to exterminate humanity, crushing most of it almost overnight. Hammerfell, Cyrodiil, Valenwood, and High Rock had already fallen under Dominion rule, and now they were fighting on the borders of every other province, the exception being Morrowind. The Altmer didn't dare attack the Dunmer. Argonia wasn't worth their time apparently, and wasn't even considered to be a threat. Little did they know that the Argonians sided with the Nords, and by extension, Skyrim. As it stood, it was the Dunmer, Nords, Argonians, Khajiit, and Imperials that had their own armies to counter the Dominion. Of course, the other Races fought back when and if they could, murders reaching the ears of the Jarls of Skyrim, provoking more and more war.

Of course, that's all information I had to learn by a whole lot of sneaking, lying, and spying. He thought, grimly remembering the time he'd run head-first into a Thalmor outpost. They did not take too kindly to it, torturing him for hours on end, and nearly reducing him to a puddle of blood and guts. Were it not for his beast blood healing him constantly, and the fact that he transformed to escape, he would have died slowly and painfully. He shut the memory down before he could remember anything more.

Someone tapped his shoulder, causing him to jump away in a flash. It was just the girl from earlier, now fully dressed in her black armor, sporting a longsword on her back.

"Geez, what's wrong with you?" she asked, a sly grin falling upon her subtle features. "It's almost like you're running from something." he wanted to protest, but then wondered if Vilka and Varka had ratted him out to their mother, in which case it would be true.

'I could say the same." he remarked, gesturing to the sleeping person on the rock. The girl simply waved him off.

"That's just Shrix. She has a rather- paranoid personality at the moment." she replied, holding out her hand. "Vala, by the way." Darkus didn't shake her hand, but he did look at her.

"Darkus. Now, where are we exactly?" he wondered, looking through the pines, and at the large mountain near them. Vala shrugged.

"Can't tell you. Vale is the person who knows, she said we were heading to Whiterun, to an old contact and friend of the- well, of another contact." she replied, scratching her head after her slight pause.

"Don't sweat talking to him about it: He's the Listener's son." another woman said, appearing behind him without warning. Darkus jumped again, which caused the woman to laugh hysterically. She was a Dunmer, but didn't speak with the Morrowind accent. Instead, she sounded like a Breton. She was a bit taller than Vala, with light-blue skin, and piercing crimson eyes. Her features were alluringly beautiful, she had red lips, dark brown hair, and large breasts, a slim waist, and wide hips. He suddenly came to the realization of what she had to be after he caught her scent; she was a vampire. A daughter of coldharbour, judging from the familiar smell of a dremora, the same smell that had been on his own mother. Her fangs also confirmed his suspicion. Vampires were always like her. They were appealing to the point of sickening fantasy, smelled like flowers and running water, and had the ability to completely take over the mind of their targets. His mom was the same way.

"The Listener?" he asked, remembering reading something about it in his mother's office, then again in his father's library. He remembered something about a group of killers, but nothing else.

"Yeah, I'd recognize you anywhere. You're Al's kid, erm, Darkus right?" she replied, touching her forefinger to her forehead. He nodded. "Alkridir came to me with you years ago, back when you were born. That mark on your left arm-" she said, gesturing to the new black insignia on his forearm. "-I put it there so that members of the Dark Brotherhood would know that you were one of us." Darkus merely dropped his shoulders.

"Great, I get to be an assassin, but a soldier is too dangerous." he muttered, mocking Lydia's tone for the last part. Vala gave him a confused look, but he payed her no mind.

"Which does remind me, your dad is the contact we're going to meet." she continued, pulling an outdated map from her dark robes.

"You know that the map has changed since- 3E 110, right?" he asked, trying to stop his eye from twitching. "You also know that my dad is dead?" she paused for a moment, as if frozen in time, and then grabbed the collar of his shirt, crying like a baby.

"W-what?!" she whined, much like a child would, tears falling on his shirt for a few seconds, before she cleared up and went back to normal. "Ah well, I guess he was mortal, all mortal's die eventually."

What in Oblivion is wrong with her? Darkus asked himself. "Yeah, He's gone. And since I'm his only 'offspring' I am the master of the household. Though Lydia is the one who makes the decisions and stuff." he scratched the back of his head. "So what did you need my father for?"

"The thing is, about a week back, our sanctuary in Dawnstar was attacked." Vale replied. "It was a surprise attack by our common enemy, the Dominion, and we were completely wiped out- or, so they think." She calmly gestured to the others in sight. "We were the only members to escape, and now we need a place to lay low, so I was hoping that your father would allow us to stay with him, at his home in Whiterun."  
"Well, we haven't lived in Whiterun since- well, since I was born, I think." Darkus replied, scratching his head. "We live in Falkreath now."

"Is that a yes?" Vala questioned.

"I guess you can stay there for a little while, just til Lydia gets back." he shrugged, looking around him once more. "Where are we?!" he suddenly shouted, sounding more aggravated than the first time. Vale shrugged her shoulders.

"I have no clue!" She laughed.

"WHAT?!"

"Let's see, I got lost somewhere at the beginning of the pines, I think we're somewhere near the old Stendarr outpost." she replied, looking back to her map. "Maybe Darkfall cave?" a sudden thought entered his mind, making him squeamish.

"Great. Werewolf hunters, and even more vampires." he sighed, drooping. "It's a good thing I know how to get to Whiterun from here… and that I have a house not too far." he noticed that there were more than just the three he could see. "After everyone gets up, and you give me back my armor, we'll start moving. Shouldn't take too long."

* * *

Lydia ripped the sleeve from her cotton shirt, tying it as tightly as she dared around the wound on her left arm. The damn Bosmer was a Thalmor agent. He'd slashed her arm pretty badly, and Vilkas wasn't doing much better. High Rock was where he'd gone after her thane disappeared, and he'd only just revealed himself in her time of need.

"You were late, not even remotely close to when I needed you." Lydia growled at the man whose charcoal hair had greyed over the years. He stretched his arm, flipping the greatsword like it were a feather. "Not like I was expecting you anyways. I thought you dead." he chuckled.

"Many do. I thought you were supposed to be in Skyrim, watching over Al's boy." he said, sheathing the great weapon. "Scouting ahead for the army?"

"That's just my cover story." she retorted. "You know, the lie I at least mentioned before I left?" his smirk left immediately.

"I left because I had to. I know what is happening, and I need to be as strong as possible when it comes." he remarked, scratching the light scruff on his chin. "I wonder what became of Varka and Vilka though, not having me there for their most stressful time in life." Lydia let out a sigh and patted his shoulder.  
"They've been alright. Darkus is much wiser than he seems. He knows how they feel more than anyone might believe." she assured. "Aela isn't gonna be happy when you come home alive after all this time. She might actually kill you, you know that right?" he looked stunned, as if the thought had never crossed his mind. "You didn't think about it, did you?"

"Not really, no. I suppose I forgot." he sighed, leaning back against a rock. "I'm not ready to go back just yet anyways- and don't mention that you saw me- I have a few more things to take care of here." Lydia scratched at the cut on her arm.

"What exactly is it that keeps you away from your own children?" She asked him, narrowing her eyes slightly. His gaze also narrowed.

"I think I know what Al was intending when he 'Died'," Vilkas said. "He didn't just use a silly bit of hocus pocus to keep the dragons away from us; he was smart. He knew that only a dragonborn could stop the war. So he left it up to Darkus." Lydia gave him a skeptical glance. "What if we got it wrong? That's what I've been searching for: answers to this question."

"Vilkas, we didn't get it wrong. Alduin was defeated, end of story."

"True, but you know what Al told me?" Vilkas asked. "He said that he didn't devour Alduin's soul; it latched itself onto him, and travelled back to Tamriel. Alduin is alive." Lydia scoffed.

"Alduin is dead, Al told me himself." Lydia countered, standing with a menacing aura.

"Alduin and Al became bound together: even though Al was the Last Dragonborn, he wasn't the final Dragonborn." Vilkas stood with her, walking in the opposite direction. "The Dragonborn will never disappear, not until dragons as a whole are eradicated." he then turned back to Lydia one more time, grinning slightly. "And dragons will never disappear."

* * *

A fist collided with Darkus' head, making his vision go fuzzy. Another fist landed in his stomach, the next on his ribs, and so on. He coughed blood, spitting out the metallic tasting liquid, straight into the face of the Thalmor Justiciar that was interrogating him. The elf wiped her face, then promptly beat him senseless.

"We have a fighter here, Alderic." the woman said, a smirk on her face. "I want to watch him writhe, begging for mercy. Maybe I'll take the friends he has, and put them through torture." Darkus grinned.

"You don't have anything on me."

"Don't I? You're name is Darkus Lite- a strange name for a Nord boy- Your father was the dragonborn, and your caretaker is Lydia of Whiterun." She replied, punching him harder and harder. "Maybe we'll pay her a visit, break her bones and leave her for rapists and murderers!"

"Don't you-!"

"Or, we'll take Varka, Farkas, and Aela of the Companions, kill them in front of you!"

"I- I'm warning you, cur!" Darkus roared in a voice not his own.

"We might even make you watch as that little girl, Vilka, is raped and killed before your eyes! HAHAHA!" She screeched, her voice shrill and insane. That was what pushed him over the edge.

"You lay a single finger in their directions, and I'll bite your whole fucking arm off!" He yelled, showing them his large incisor teeth, Amber slit-pupiled eyes, and straining the chains as far as they dared stretch. The woman, assuming she'd won, sent another fist flying his way, but his caught her by the wrist with his teeth, biting down hard. She screamed as she tried to pull away, but Darkus had already began his transformation…

"Wake up!" Vala called, kicking his left ankle. Darkus stood up and scratched his head, looking down at the woman.

"My turn already, huh?" He sighed, taking watched next to Shrix on the nearby rock. "Hey Shrix, you should go to bed." she replied with a punch to the side of his head, and cracked two of her fingers.

"Ow!" she cried, rubbing them. Darkus looked at her, unfazed by her action. Instead of hitting her back, he stared in the direction she was looking, letting go of his momentary anger.

"Listen to me- I've been where you are. I've lost people, homes, and felt the blame for everything." he said, not bothering to turn his head. "I don't know the specifics of what happened, and I don't need to to know. The only thing I want to tell you is that you're no good to your family dead. Get some sleep tonight, and I'll let you do whatever you want tomorrow, no arguments." she glared at him, and he knew it.

"And if I refuse?" She asked.

"I won't blame you. I don't often sleep, and when I do, I'm haunted by nightmares of my mistakes, fears, and beast blood." He said. "You can do whatever you want; it's your life, the difference between me and you is: You have more people than I did when I needed it most. Trust me when I say you need your friends."

"I let them down." She said, sobbing almost. "They died because I wasn't careful. I brought a person that I thought would've been a good member of our brotherhood, but it turned out they were a spy of the Dominion." Darkus sighed.

"I see." was his only response. "Everyone makes mistakes. You just have to learn to work through them, and know that your friends forgive you."

"Yeah, the kid's right." Riaz, a Khajiit man, said appearing behind them. Shrix actually jumped up when he broke the calmness of their conversation, startled by his voice. Almost instantly, she rounded on him and slammed one of her fists into the side of his head, dropping him to the ground.

"Don't sneak up on people like that!" She screeched.

That's irony if I ever heard it. Darkus thought, watching as Shrix brutally kicked Riaz. It's their jobs to sneak up on people, after all. After watching for a minute, Darkus promptly picked up Shrix, who was kicking and cursing, and carried her to her tent. He hit the pressure point in her neck, and knocked her out. She won't be as irritable after a good night's sleep.

"Why would you leave Riaz on the ground?" the khajiit asked as Darkus passed him.

"Oh, you're still here?"

"You have forgotten?!"

"Of course not, go to bed moron." Darkus snapped. His nose suddenly caught the scents of twenty, maybe thirty people. Geez, someone really wants these guys dead. "Riaz!"

Riaz, apparently sensing the danger, just nodded, drawing two short ebony dagger, holding one in a reverse grip. Khajiit had night vision, something that he should've remembered after fighting so many of them. Another problem was at hand: Only Vala and Vale would wake up, if they were lucky, from the unfamiliar scents approaching. Shrix, Caro, and Zassa wouldn't know anything about the attack, they were fast asleep.

Darkus guessed that they were a little over ten metres away from the camp, but without his sight he wouldn't be able to pinpoint their exact position. Not until he could hear them clearly enough. Riaz would know…

"RIAZ! Where are they?!" he called, looking to the cat standing a few feet away.

"Seven are coming right in front of you, I see three on both sides, and five more coming on my front." He said quickly. "They're definitely after us, the robes match our sanctuary attackers." Darkus nodded his head. The Dominion is here after all.  
"Alright, wake up the others, and get them out of here." He commanded, lifting his fists in a combat stance. "I'll hold them off, then me and Shrix will follow you. She's in the farthest tent, and you'll all be captured if you don't escape right now."

"That stance-!" Riaz hissed in surprise.

"Yeah, Whispering Fang. Now go!" he replied. "Go! Get everyone moving!" Riaz ran to the nearest tents, hitting them hard.

"Vala, Vale! Get up, we gotta go!" He yelled. "Caro, Sis, come on wake up!" he heard quick rustling, and the first arrow slammed into his arm before he could react.

"Head South! Straight South!" He called to Riaz. Shrix's tent was farther away than the others', placing her behind him. Riaz would've been too slow carrying someone as tall as him, not to mention that Shrix probably weighed more than Darkus did.

He heard the footsteps as they got closer, catching the first blade in a vice-grip, and snapping the wrist of the wielder. He twisted the blade of the sword to intercept the incoming arrow, but only managed to deflect it away from his chest, and into his right shoulder. A tent flapped open. Fuck! Shrix is vulnerable! He took the stolen sword and plunged it through the body of the elf who'd attempted to kill Shrix. These bastards are using a Night Vision spell. The fireball slammed into the ground just behind him, sending him flying into the air. He landed on the tent, which collapsed under his weight, and onto Shrix.

"There he is! The Wolf of the North!" he heard a woman yell. They're after me? What in oblivion for?! He deflected another arrow away, and stood up, straining his vision, willing himself to see in the darkness. He could only make out brief flickers of magic, nothing more. "He shall pay dearly!"

Something about the woman's voice sounded familiar. It was different, but still had a condescending, monotone that made his skin tingle with anger. The Thalmor Justiciar that he'd mauled, had she somehow survived? Yes, he could hear it now: Her throat had been horribly torn up by his teeth, but she had survived. Unfortunately, the moons weren't in an alignment that would allow him to transform and kill them all, and even if they were; he'd have to remove his Black Silver Amulet to transform in the first place. Even after that, he couldn't control his beast form, and would risk killing Shrix and the others. He'd have to fight it out as a Nord.

His mind went back to a day six years prior, a bright sunny day that he and Lydia trained upon. He remembered her grin at the sight of a lightning-flame cloak that he'd conjured by accident.

"Very good Darkus, you're a lot like your mother."

"My mother?"  
"Yes. Her magic was special too. She could conjure it at will of course, but her magic also allowed for emotional breaks."

"What the heck do you mean by that?" Darkus asked, looking at the blue static fire that surrounded his body. Lydia sent him a grin.

"I mean that sometimes she'd cast a spell based on an intense feeling, like anger, or rage, or even happiness." Lydia explained. "She had an affinity for Lightning and Fire magic, but was also very skilled with Frost. Sometimes, she'd get a feeling so intense that new spells specific to her would manifest, such as her Dragon's Cloak, where which her body was consumed by blue fire, in the shape of a dragon." Darkus looked at his hands.

"I have this ability?" He asked, gaining a nod from Lydia.

"Of course you do. Both of your parents had high Magicka reserves, and I wouldn't doubt that you're the same. You might even have more than them." she sighed, wiping sweat from her forehead. "Too bad I can't teach you magic; I was born with barely any Magicka."

"So I should just ignore magic then?" he wondered.

"No, because if you're anything like your parents, you'll find a way to use it."

Darkus snapped back to reality, readying himself for their attacks.

"Incendia Miscet!" a man yelled, sending a jet of flame in their direction. Soon the others followed, sending fire, frost, and other various spells at the pair. Darkus picked up Shrix moving her quickly away from the magics of the enemy.

"Lupus Interitum!" the woman yelled in her scratchy voice. He'd heard of that spell before, a man in Cyrodiil had perfected it some time in 4E 208. It was a spell specific to werewolves. Destruction Magic, a deadly poison on Lycanthropes that drains their stamina magicka and vitality, rendering them unable to move.

He dodged the silver streak of magic by an inch, landing hard against a rock. It wouldn't harm Shrix, she wasn't a werebeast. Mustering up his anger for the Thalmor, and that woman in particular, he gripped his weapon tightly and sprinted forwards.

"Spiritus Draconis!" He called, his sword glowing white-hot in the fire that surrounded it. They were all in front of him. "I can see you! You're dead this time!"


	4. Chapter 4: Return

4E 221, 2nd of Mid Year

It was dawn when Shrix woke up. Darkus had hit her harder than he thought, probably harder than he should have. Then again, he was bleeding pretty badly still; the Thalmor bitch had gotten him twice with the werewolf curse, not to mention how many sword strikes he still had to endure. He was so beaten that Shrix's black leather armor was deep crimson, and his brown armor wasn't faring much better, being shredded to the point where is couldn't even be called armor anymore.

She blinked a few times, rubbing her eyes and trying to focus her vision. He guessed that she would be seeing blurry for a few minutes. That didn't help the situation. He couldn't walk, he could barely move. He was barely conscious. By scent, the others were only about a kilometre away, but he could be wrong. His senses weren't working properly, an effect of death, and blood loss, and dehydration. He was pretty much on his deathbed by that point.

"Hey, if you're up, your friends are in that direction." He uttered as loud as he could. Her head snapped to attention, eyes wide, only to find a light grin on his face. "What are you waiting for? They're over there, go get them." she wouldn't move. Shock from the sudden change in scenery?

"What happened to you?!" she asked, her mouth agape.

"You were right to stay on watch…" he replied with a grin. "We probably woulda gotten away if I let you stay awake." He'd been holding up pretty well up until that point. Maybe the talking had something to do with why he was feeling more and more dead each second.

"Stay awake, I'll be right back! I'll go get the others, they'll know what to do!" she ordered, jumping to her feet, and sprinting in the direction of her friends. Darkus was grateful when she returned, as he was struggling to keep his eyes open. "Vale, can you help him?" Vale, who was only a silhouette at that point, kneeled down.

"Yes and no." she replied. "I can get rid of the curse, but he'll have to heal himself." Darkus was alright with that answer. He would be completely fine after a few minutes, his mixed dragon and lycan blood would see to that. That is, if he could keep himself awake for that long. "You ready?"

"Yeah." Darkus said barely above a whisper. She gave him a small grin.

"Maledic Sanabo" she sang, touching his chest softly. Instantly his fatigue left him, and he felt as if he were on an adrenaline rush. He was finally able to breath easily. Once she stopped he could see the day clearly again, and stood up as his wounds began steaming and closing. After a few minutes of walking he had to stretch out his arms and newly-formed muscle tissue, because if he didn't he'd regret it later.

"What kind of magic runs through your veins?" Vala asked, inspecting his new scars.

"I'm curious as well." Vale added. "I was good friends with your father, I knew probably just about everything about him- but you heal faster than even he did!"

"I dunno." Darkus replied with a shrug. "I was just born a fast healer- broken bones heal within hours, depending on how bad it is." He grimly remembered when he'd shattered his collarbone, spending about two days on his ass while his bone re-formed. It wasn't a painless experience, having to regrow the bone.

"Yeah, it took longer for your dad." Vale interjected. "It took him two days to heal a few broken ribs."

"Can we get away from my healing for a minute?" he interrupted, getting tired with the current conversation. "How far from Whiterun d'you think we are?" Vale looked at the frost-layered trees.

"Not even a day- if we hurry, we'll get there by nightfall." she replied.

"Well, let's get going then." Darkus announced, running ahead. He decided that, rather than spend another day with a psychotic vampire around, he'd much rather deal with a psychotic werewolf, and Aela the Huntress.

As he ran, he could hear the others rasping behind him, the exceptions being Caro and Shrix, who were running strong. They passed the Pelagia farm after about three hours, and soon after that the city was in sight on the horizon. He was relieved when he reached the gates, as it was almost dark. The light was just barely visible. He greeted the guards as he entered the city, letting them know that the others were with him.

After walking to the Bannered Mare for a meal, and to rent a room, Darkus found himself lying in his bed wide awake, and wondering what he should do until the next day. His thoughts were cut short however, as he only barely caught the scent of an invisible enemy with enough time to dodge it. He concentrated hard on the smell, barely able to make an outline in the poor lighting. It was an elf, that much was obvious. The elf chuckled, moving side to side, underestimating Darkus' speed, just because he was tall. Before the elf could react, Darkus had grabbed him and snapped his neck. He looked closely at the armor, standing straight and bolting for Vala's room, which was across from his, as he realised that the elf was a Thalmor. He burst through the door, jumping on top of Vala and forcing her out of her bed just as the arrow whizzed past their heads.

"What the-?!" she screamed, looking wildly from side to side. "Darkus?" the window crashed, the assailant was going to escape. Darkus ran for the pale-lit hole.

"Go get the others!" he ordered, jumping through the window and landing on the cold street.

"Darkus?!"

"Now!" he ordered again, running down the dim streets, following the scent of elf-blood, and the bodies of guards that were strewn across the ground. He rounded the corner, met by a swinging fist. He ducked faster than lightning, countering with his own strike. His opponent fell on their ass, disoriented from their broken nose. He put his foot on their neck. "Who are you? Answer me!" the elf spit and coughed. He noticed that the elf was a woman, and slackened his hold on her neck.

"Choke on a basket of c-!" she began, her breath taken by his boot coming down again and completely crushing her windpipe. She spluttered and tried to breath, not realising that she'd drown on her own blood in a few seconds. He stopped to take a breather, momentarily forgetting that his boot was covered in blood. As he approached the small stream near the gate, and arrow placed itself between him and the water. He turned just in time to sidestep a tackle attempt, from none other than Vilka.

"What are you doing?" he asked, crouching next to her. She shifted slightly, her eyes showing that she had been crying recently. Concerned, he picked her up in his arms and hugged her. "What's going on?" She chuckled lightly, kissed his cheek, which was strange for her, and continued hugging him.

"I thought you were dead." she cried. "When I finally caught your scent, I had to see you." he was stunned, but tightened his hug nonetheless.

Why in Oblivion would she think I was dead? He wondered, looking at the the charcoal head of hair next to him. I never even made it that far. Stupid damn bandits.

"Why would you think that?" he asked, pulling his friend away. "What would've killed me?"

"We had heard that Dawnstar had been attacked by the Dominion! You were headed there, you idiot!" she screamed, hitting him hard in the chest. "Where in Oblivion did you go?!" she was crying again, he could see it, smell it, and even feel it.

"I'm sorry, I was attacked by bandits while in the woods, fell into a river, and one thing led to another, and here I am." he explained, patting her head. Something was still amiss. "What's wrong? Besides me, what happened?" she choked slightly.

"F-Farkas, Sam, and Saire were killed a few days ago." She said, leaving Darkus frozen in ice. "Varka also disappeared, we haven't seen him since you left."

How? What happened? Why did Varka leave? Darkus couldn't bring himself to ask her; she was obviously in more pain than she let off. He could hurt her worse, make her feel more terrible even. "Vilka, he'll be back."

"What?"

"Varka will come back, because I know where he went." Darkus said. She looked up at him, just in time to watch his icy blue eyes burn bright silver for an instant, before they faded back to normal. "He went to find your father."

* * *

Vilkas looked over his shoulder, back towards Skyrim. An eerie and chilled feeling seeped itself into his body, making him feel cold. Lydia must've gotten the same feeling, as she too looked back towards Skyrim.

"Did you feel that?" he asked, placing his hand on the hilt of his sword. Lydia nodded, but didn't move as if it were an attack, or magic from an enemy. Instead she looked from side to side, trying to focus on something.

"It was, er, a chill." She said with a shaken voice. "It has to be Darkus; there's no one else alive with Magicka as concentrated, powerful, and sinister as his." Vilkas raised an eyebrow.

"You can sense Magicka? When did you learn to do that?" he inquired. "More importantly; what's so special about Darkus' Magicka?" Lydia shook her head to rid herself of a minor headache.

"When Darkus' parents disappeared, they let me 'borrow' their Magicka." She replied, sitting down on the rocks. "His father gave me the ability to shout, which, without his Magicka, I wouldn't be able to do. His Magicka also gave me the ability to sense if a Dragon is nearby, which is helpful, and with it I can enhance my own bodily functions." Vilkas looked only slightly confused.

"Bodily functions?" he asked, with a raised brow. "What does that mean?"

"Well, I can restore my stamina in an instant, repair my own muscles if they've been damaged, hold my bones together if they get broken. If a major artery gets severed; I create a new path to it. It lets me enhance my strength, speed, agility, and endurance at any given time. Things like that." She answered, clearing the confused look from Vilkas' features. "His mother was a Vampire, so naturally when she gave me her Magicka, I also got some of her Vampiric Abilities. That's why I've only aged two years in the last sixteen. I am immune to diseases and poisons, it takes three times longer for me to freeze to death, and I don't fancy cooked meat too much anymore. Immortal Magicka has that effect on your body."

"Huh." Vilkas sounded. "Pretty similar to the benefits I used to get from Lycanthropy." Lydia spied the scar at the base of his neck, the one he'd gotten when he cured himself nearly twenty years prior. "Of course, I never got the magic stuff." Vilkas quickly flashed a look back to Skyrim, momentarily locking on the huge mountain that could be seen from even where he was. "I can't help but wonder what my children are up to…"

"They've been up to the same thing that you were up to at their age." Lydia replied, gaining a loud wolfish laugh from Vilkas.

"Dear gods, I hope not!" he exclaimed. "When I was their age, you wouldn't believe the amount of trouble I was getting into…"

"Late night visits to a young woman in Ivarstead perhaps?" Lydia asked with a raised brow and a smirk.

"No, no, no," Vilkas shook his head. "Well- not in Ivarstead anyways. Not to mention that I was a bit of an asshole throughout that time. Gods, I'm glad I straightened out when I did, else Al would've beaten my ass even harder than he did on his first day- never seen a kid move like him." Lydia nodded.

"Neither had I, Serana, Ulfric Stormcloak, General Tullius, Irileth, or his wife." She said, crossing her arms behind her head. "I paid for it though." She lifted her shirt to reveal a shallow scar on her lower right abdomen. "If I had the speed I've got right now, I still would've only been able to block and counter, because it took me about a year and a half for my reflexes to quicken." She quickly, fluidly, grabbed two small knives in either hand, and threw them in four directions, one skimming past Vilkas' face. Four screams were heard, as Lydia stood with a grin. She cleared the bushes in all directions, recovering the knives from all of the throats of her victims. Except one.

The last target had been hit in the right thigh. Lydia picked the young Altmer woman up off the ground, and brought her to her face. The elf was young, probably only around twenty.

"How did you-?"

"Always know how to spot an elf in hiding." She replied, glaring at the Altmer. "Do you speak common?" the elf looked confused, so Lydia did her best to mimic the accent and cleared her throat. "Do you understand me better now?" she asked in Altmeric, this time gaining a frightened nod from the girl. "Who sent you?"

"M-my superiors." she squeaked. "What are you going to do? Torture me? Subject me to various experiments that I won't survive?" Lydia sighed.

"Geez. How long have you been in the Dominion?" She asked, wrenching the dagger from the girl's shoulder.

"This is my first month, I'm a Scout, a Spy, or anything that my Officer needs me to be." The girl said with wide eyes. Lydia leaned in closer, so close that their noses almost touched.

"If it means your life, are you willing to defect?" Lydia questioned. The girl shook her head, but Lydia could see that she wanted to. "Why not?"

"M-my mother and little brother are still living in the Summerset Isle! If I defect, they might be killed!" she replied. Lydia ruffled the girl's dark red hair and stood up, facing Vilkas.

"Pick her up." She ordered, readying her blade. "There are more coming, and they'll kill us all, even the girl, to set an example." Vilkas picked up the young woman, who struggled as much as she could've, but she was young, small, and short. If Lydia had to wager, she'd say that the elf was mixed blood with one of the human races. "Girl, how many of your comrades back there were half-human?" the girls looked surprised by her question.

"All of them."

"I see, and are you half-human too." she questioned.

"Yes, but I don't see what that has to do with-"

"You were sent on this scouting mission to be dealt with. They wanted you and your half-blood comrades to be destroyed by us, and if we couldn't do it, they would and then they'd cover it up."

"Hey, could you tell me what in Oblivion you're saying? I don't speak any of the Elven languages." Vilkas interrupted.

"Shut up and keep moving." Lydia barked, motivating him to go. "Chances are they'll tell your family that you died, but they won't do anything to them."

"How do you know?"

"Trust me, they want to keep as many elves alive as possible, and not only that, but they want pure elves. Your mother won't be harmed, and I'm guessing that your brother has a different father than you?"

"Yes, Yllia's father is a Thalmor emissary, a high-ranking official in the Dominion." the girl said.

"What's your name?" she asked. The girl thought for a moment, probably wondering if she should give Lydia her real name. "I'm Lydia." the girl responded with a gulp.

"I'm Alyriea Eleanna." she said.

The first volley of arrows burst from the surrounding bushes. Lydia was ready, moving fast enough to cut down and deflect the ones that would hit.

"To Skyrim, Vilkas!" Lydia screamed, clearing her throat. "Fus, Ro Dah!" she shouted, cracking and splintering the nearby trees, throwing arrows back at their casters, and tossing all enemies away, before turning around and running to Vilkas and Alyriea. The two had gotten considerably far, as they'd already started their climb up the mountains. It would take a day to get up the mountains, a day to get down, and then who knows how long to reach a city.

Her nose suddenly twitched, filled with the smell of sulfur, age, and anger. A Dragon was getting very close to her, which would've been bad had the Dragon not been an old friend of Al's.

"Joor, climb the mountain!" Odahviing ordered. "I and Zofass Vahdin shall hold them here." Lydia thought he sounded a little bitter, and angry, but didn't dislike that as much as she disliked the nickname, if she could call it that, that Odahviing had given her the first time they battled. It meant 'frightening maiden', which she didn't understand. She was not a frightening maiden, in her mind.

"Nice to see you, Yolos Al." she said in retort. It did little, as he didn't seem to understand that he had insulted her, that and she also believed that he liked being called 'flaming destruction'. "Why in Tamriel are you here? Did ya miss me?" Odahviing snorted.

"No, I have little interest in you." He replied, obviously foreign to sarcasm. "I was contacted by an old ally, one with the face of my summoner."

"Ew, now you sound like Durnehviir." She said, contorting her face to a sour expression. Then it got her attention. "Wait, you've talked to Al?" the first wave of enemies approached, slashing at Lydia but getting bisected in one fell swoop. Odahviing slammed his powerful jaws on a group of them, shaking them and throwing them before taking up another mouthful.

"No. This person had his face, but not his voice." Odahviing said, chewing on a large group of soldiers.

"Could you not talk with food in your mouth please? It's very rude!" Lydia barked at him, slashing down several more of their enemies.  
They battled hard for the next two hours, taking turns burning the Altmer to a fine crisp, before Odahviing ordered her onto his back, so that they could go pick up the other two.

"Odahviing, Why did you come if Al didn't summon you?" Lydia asked.

"Hard to explain Vahdin-" he started, gaining ground on the others. "I was praan, resting atop the mountain. My head was rushed with sudden thought, an image of di bel dressed in black spoke to me, telling me to help. But it was not the summoner." he landed to pick up Vilkas and the elf, the latter of which screamed in terror before, as, and after the fact that they were flying.

"If it wasn't him, why did you come?"

"I should not say." He replied, looking away from her.

"Why did you come?!" She yelled, shaking him for a second. He was silent, and then he sighed.

"Because it was suicide to disobey." He said. "I would not so easily ignore Alduin's voice." Lydia froze in her spot. She didn't move, couldn't move. There was no way Alduin spoke to Odahviing. "I see you have your doubts, I did too. Dragon's are incapable of dreaming, since they don't need to sleep."

They flew for another two hours, seeing nothing until Vilkas spotted his old wolf armor, the armor he'd left for Varka when he'd gotten old enough, and then asked to be put down. Then after a few more hours of flight, Lydia and Alyriea were dropped off at Lakeview Manor, and Odahviing set off.

"Come inside, I'll tend to your wounds." Lydia said, showing the Elf into their home.

Atop the Throat of the World, Odahviing landed to see Paarthurnax greet him. The two exchanged glances, then looked towards the young man sitting in next to the word wall, his arms crossed. He stood up, as tall as the Dragonborn. His hair was jet black, spiked down and covered his eyes, which flashed bright red before they faded to a deep blue color. He had no facial hair, and wore a robe that was tied with many ropes.

"You think they'll be ready?" Paarthurnax asked the man. The man nodded.

"They've got no choice, the Dragonborn's return is inevitable." the man said.

"Alkridiiv, he really will return then?" Odahviing asked.

"Yes."

"What should we do?"

"I will help in any way I can, my time is over, I am no longer the force I once was." The man said, moving his hair to reveal the young handsome face of the Dragonborn, Alkridiiv Dirsauvas. "I am no longer Alduin the Son of Akatosh; I am Alduin of the Dragon Blood. I have returned, not to destroy Mundus, but to protect it." Alduin looked upon the horizon, his eyes spotting his target: Darkus Lite.


	5. Chapter 5: Awkward Connections

**So comes the first part of the first major arc of the story. please leave a review and give me feedback of what you think of the story of the Last Dragonborn's son. This story is difficult to convey, as most of the characters are Original, and a lot of the characters from twenty years in the past are old, or long dead, so please be content with what I've tried to give. if possible, I will try to bring what people want into the story.**

* * *

4E 221, 4th of Mid Year

Darkus yawned as he slid down the wall of Whiterun. Shrix tapped her foot impatiently, and had her arms crossed, her eyebrow twitching angrily. She, like him, was tired of waiting for Vala, Vale, Riaz, Caro, and Zassa as they ran from place to place, picking up useless garbage that Darkus knew he'd end up carrying.

"Hey-" He heard shrix begin. He looked toward the half-Argonian with a questioning glance. "I realize that I never actually thanked you for saving me back then-"

"Don't." He interrupted. "I don't need to be thanked, if anything you should hit me for knocking you out." she looked straight at the ground.

"You're not easy to talk to, are ya?"

"It's my fault we had to run." He shrugged, looking down towards the stream. She quirked an eyebrow. "Have you ever heard of the Wolf of the North?"

"Yeah, I heard he was a great warrior, powerful enough to take out an entire fortress of Thalmor and Aldmeri Dominion troops!" She grinned, flexing her biceps. "If he's that strong, I wanna fight him someday!" Darkus grinned, bursting into laughter within the next few seconds. "What?"

"I'm the Wolf of the North." He explained, pointing at himself. "I got captured by them a while back, and when they infuriated me, I transformed into a werewolf, and ate most of them… Man, I was hurting after that." he looked at her surprised and stunned face. "Yeah, most people, Lydia included, think that the Wolf is just an old man, a recluse out in the wilderness."

"Holy Talos!" she exclaimed, prompting Darkus to make the shush motion with his hand. She heeded his warning, and looked around before leaning over to whisper. "How strong are you?" Darkus shrugged, standing up to greet the five other members of the group.

"Ready to go?" he asked, pointing his thumb back through the gates. Vala nodded. "Good. if we take a shortcut, we can get to my house in about two days- we'll have to camp in the woods, but we won't have to trek around a gigantic lake- or we can go by the roads- through Riverwood, to Helgen, and such." Caro spoke up first in his deep monotone voice, much deeper than Darkus'.

"I vote for the camping trip. I'd much rather get there in two days, rather than four." he said, walking through the wide open gates. Shrix nodded, and Riaz seemed to like the idea as well.

"I always liked the woods this time of year anyways." Vala shrugged, following them. Only Zassa and Vale seemed to hate the idea, the latter of which made Darkus carry her as soon as they got through the gates.  
As they walked, they ran into very little things of interest, occasionally coming across a wolf that would growl at Riaz, but wouldn't attack due to Darkus' presence with them. He would growl right back at the beast, and it would submit to him. The ones that wouldn't, would try to jump on him and were met with a fist slamming into their skulls. After bypassing Riverwood completely, Darkus decided that the group should set up camp, sleep, and be ready for the next day, as it involved quite a bit of swimming.

Darkus was the only one who stayed awake, aside from Shrix, who woke up just before dawn. She seemed confused as to why he wasn't sleeping, and sat down next to him. He wasn't in the mood to explain himself, it's not like he couldn't do it later, but she wouldn't stop staring at him with a questioning look.

"I, er, don't sleep." he said, scratching the back of his head. "Don't get me wrong, I get tired, and I can and do sleep sometimes, but my beast blood usually keeps me awake at night anyways."

"It's that much of a pain in the ass? Now I don't even want to become a werewolf." She sighed. "You know, I'm beginning to think you have a way of ruining everything." Darkus chuckled.

"Well, the Thalmor back then were after me. I had ripped out their captain's throat, and apparently she lived to tell the tale." he explained. "So, yeah, I guess you could say that." she huffed and looked out towards the lake. "By the way, we are crossing that lake tomorrow, and it'll take a while."

"That doesn't sound too bad."

"Yeah, well it's a Skyrim lake; it's barely warm enough to stay water." He replied with a sigh. "I can handle the water, but I don't know about all of you. It'll be a very long swim, at least an hour to the nearest island, then another half hour to the mainland." Shrix's shoulders actually dropped. "Yeah, I know. I've gone through it quite a few times, and trust me; it does not get better."

"You're really reassuring, thanks." she grunted, leaning back on her elbows. She sighed and stared at the sky, what little of it she could've seen anyways. The trees were too dense where they were, casting shadows as the first light crept over the Eastern mountains. Darkus and Shrix waited until they could fully see sun before they woke up the others, though none of them were too happy about it.

The entire group stood at the shore, just out of the water, where all of them yawned and stretched out their arms. "We're gonna what now?" Riaz asked, rubbing his eyes. Shrix sighed, and slapped the back of his head to wake him up. "Ow!"

"That's right, we're all swimming across this fuckin' lake!" she yelled into his left ear, rather loudly too. That seemed to snap the others fully to their senses, unfortunately not enough to help Riaz off of the ground where he was covering his ears. "Get your clothes off, and get in there already." Darkus was about to interject that he shouldn't, as the water was only knee deep for the next hundred feet, and he'd be chilled to the bone if he did, but before he could, Shrix kicked Riaz hard enough to send him flying face first, clothes and all, into the water, rendering his clothes freezing cold in the wind. He stood up, shaking out his clothes, and then began shivering as he turned around to face them.

"What the fuck was that for, you damn Lizard?!" he roared, pointing a finger at the half-Argonian. Shrix's fist was moving and her knuckles were white, as she stripped off her boots and headed into the water.

"What did you just call me?"

"You heard me!" He retorted, slamming his forehead against hers. She reeled back instantly, holding her head. Riaz did the same, but soon found himself trying to keep his balance, as his head was bleeding from the impact point. She actually stumbled over to him, and tried to punch him, but he was weary, and fell forwards out of the way, catching his claws on her shirt in attempt to hit back. Needless to say, the razor sharp claws tore through the white fabric, and it fell off of her, into the water. As it turned out, she wasn't wearing anything under her shirt, at least not after Riaz ripped it off. The beige fabric was impaled on his fingers, with a slight amount of blood from the shallow scratches on her breast. His heart sank into his stomach. "Oops." he sputtered in a high pitched voice, looking at the angry and embarrassed face of Shrix.

"He's not gonna be able to swim on his own, is he?" Darkus asked, pulling off his boots. Vala shrugged, and the others made simple sighs. He began wading through the water to stop the inevitable fight between the two. "Just so ya know, you guys are gonna carry him through the water. And seeing as he's as muscle toned as one his size can get, he's gonna be heavy as the Void." Caro, Zassa, and Vale all sunk. He caught Shrix's punch just before it connected with Riaz's skull, and was surprised by the amount of strength behind it. She could easily break Riaz's skull into pieces with that punch. "Alright, so now that that's done-" he said, shielding his eyes with his other hand. "-we can move on. I want to be at home before someone else tracks us down to kill us." Shrix sighed, and covered herself with her arms.

"Sorry." Riaz said, handing her her undercloth, and his own shirt. She took it back without looking at him, and reattached it quickly. While the two stood there, the others decided to push on, leaving them behind. She pulled his shirt on over her head, and scaled abdomen. "We should probably get moving, if we don't want to be left behind." she nodded.

"Yeah, let's go."

Darkus stopped roughly where the drop off was, looking down at the murky dark water. Something felt off, like he was being watched, stalked even. The water itself felt foreign to him. Mutated was a better word for it. Raiz walked past him without a care in the world.

"Why're you pausing? Can't we just-" he began, getting cut off as he abruptly sank past his ears into the water.

"Oh, there it is." Darkus jested, feigning a joke on Riaz as he pulled him out of the water. Darkus had a sickening feeling in his gut, and if he learned anything in the last sixteen years, it was to trust his gut feelings. "Alright, from here on, we will have to swim." all of them nodded, quickly jumping into the water. All except for Vale, who used a Water Walking spell, and casually strolled alongside the rest of them. She seemed content at keeping her magic spells ready, looking around occasionally to check their surroundings. So she feels it too? There must be something wrong after all.

* * *

The journey to the island went smoothly, no one was fighting, and they didn't have to stop for anything. Once they were at the island, they all stopped for a breather. Darkus continued feeling uneasy about it all, making a few trips around the island to make sure. He made sure everyone was all rested before he got them all up, and into the water again. The shore was finally in sight, and that was when Darkus felt something move past his leg. He stopped, knowing that in less than ten feet, it was really shallow again. He felt it again.

"Go to the shore!" Darkus ordered, looking around for what could've done it. Everyone nodded, moving quickly. Just off of the shallows, Shrix and Vala suddenly were pulled underwater. "Caro!" Caro had already gotten back to the shoreline, but Riaz was still close by. He dove down with Darkus, swimming farther and farther into the depths to find their groupmates. Darkus could see something deeper in the water. It was a creature, like a squid, and it was holding both of the Dark Brotherhood assassins, who were fighting hard against the creature. Darkus looked at Riaz, who nodded. Without muttering a word, Darkus sent two jets of white hot flame into the tentacles holding the two women. They were released, and Darkus and Riaz were able to get them, beginning their ascent to the surface.

Then the creature grabbed Darkus' legs, and pulled him down again. He looked at it, making an angry face for his rage, and burned the tendrils with his hands. That made the beast angry, as he slammed not only him, but Riaz, Vala, and Shrix against rocks. He tasted the copper of their blood in the water, as well as his own. With a surge of anger, he set the tendril ablaze, throwing Shrix up to the surface. Then he intercepted an attack against the others, getting his leg impaled in the process. He sent the other two up to the surface as well, staying behind to finish the beast off. After a few seconds, he felt like he needed to breath, as the pressure pushed on his chest, and forced the air out. Then he heard a voice.

"Use your lightning." the unbodied voice of his mother told him. "Your friends have escaped the water. Trust me, you will survive." Darkus looked up, finding that the others were nowhere in sight as he kept sinking. His vision was darkening, and his limbs felt weak. "Do it!"

"Corporaliter Tacta!" He incanted, closing his eyes to concentrate his Magicka into electricity. His body felt like it exploded as all of his magicka forced its way through his skin, blasting everything in the water with electricity. The last thing he saw before blacking out was the light cyan smile of a ghost.

"Darkus." he heard again. He snapped awake, forcing himself above the water. He coughed and choked, but continued his slow crawl to the shore, where Vala and Shrix lay unconscious, and Riaz sat, bleeding as badly as the other two. He was breathing raggedly, holding his ribs, which must've been broken.

"Pick them up, we gotta go." Darkus ordered, limping down the road with his wounds. The monster had impaled his abdomen as well when he decided to use magic, and the wounds weren't closing. The monster itself was able to nullify his healing abilities, making it impossible for him to fight any longer. Even with that wound, he wouldn't die for a long time. He looked back and saw Riaz, broken ribs, a gash in his neck, and carrying Shrix in his arms. Vale was carrying Vala, and they would outrun him if he wasn't careful. He spotted his house on the hill, and slowly made his up to the doors. "Here." he breathed, showing the others inside. Shrix grabbed his hand as she passed.

"Thanks." she whispered. The gash on her forehead cut through her right eyebrow, and went a little ways into her hairline. She was bleeding very badly. He looked at Vala and Shrix, who had terrible gashes all over their bodies, and slammed his fist down. He had to do something.

"Oh my! Bandits!" a young woman exclaimed. Darkus looked at her, seeing her Altmeric armor and amber skin, stumbling over to put a fist in her face. Lydia appeared in front of her and caught Darkus' hand.

"It's not the time or place to harm a young woman, Darkus." she said, dropping his weary fist. "We need to get to work on healing these people that you've brought here." Vale frowned.

"Nice to see you, too, Lydia." Vale pouted.

"Whatever." Lydia replied, flexing her fingers and stretching them out.

Shrix had two long lacerations, one on her left thigh, and another on her right abdomen. There were a few bruises, but regardless Lydia looked grim. Vala had three, one on her upper right thigh, which stretched to just over her prominent abs. One was torn down her left breast, and the last was on her back, just off of her hips. Vale looked equally startled.  
"What can you do for them?" Lydia asked.

"I can only heal up Vala's wounds, as they aren't as deep but are more mortal than Shrix's." Vale said, getting to work on reforming the tissue. "She'll have the scars forever, but she won't die." Vale looked to Vala, shaking her head. "I wish I could do more." Darkus, who at that point was barely able to keep his eyes open, suddenly got a headache. A headache far fiercer than anything he'd experienced before.

"Do you wish to save her, Darkus?" the disembodied voice of his mother asked. He nodded, unable to speak. "Then for the time being, I shall grant you the needed power." Darkus felt none of the pain that was debilitating him, instead finding that his hands were glowing a strange gold-silver that apparently no one but him could see. With his hands, he touched Shrix's forehead, and transferred her injuries to him, which began to seal up immediately. The regeneration was still very slow, and he continued to bleed. He felt the effects of the creature's venom wearing off only slightly. It didn't bite him, no, but being impaled certainly had to have that problem. After all of her wounds became obsolete, he hadn't fully healed, but he thought he was good enough from all of his, he felt like he'd stayed up without sleep for a straight week.

"I… do not… EVER… want to do that again…" he breathed, rolling onto his back. He felt his forehead, and found the scar over his right eye, exactly where it should've been. He faced Shrix, finding the exact same thin line that went through her right eyebrow, and up into her dark hairline. "Interesting." He was then greeted by the downward-stare of Lydia, who did not look amused.

"I see you left Whiterun." She said, her hands on her hips. "Without me present to come get you." Darkus gave her an unpleasant frown.

"I made it back on my own, just like every other time."

"Yes, but this time you're half dead." she interjected.

"Not like you're doing any better. Nice arm." was his retort, as he sat back up to point at the still bleeding wound on Lydia's left bicep. "Stray arrow? No doubt from the Aldmeri agent you've got in the house." Lydia sighed, putting her palm to her forehead.

"You're as stubborn as your mother." She groaned. "She is a Half-elf, a defect from the Dominion." Darkus looked a little skeptical, but decided not to care as long as she didn't kill him.

"What's her name?" he asked, pulling himself off of the ground to put his clothes back on, which became soaked with his blood in seconds. Lydia looked to the girl, who was a little older than Darkus, and looked back.

"She is Alyriea Eleanna." Lydia told him, catching him as he fell over. "For now, she's staying here." Darkus nodded, pushing himself off of Lydia to stand on his own. He moved his arms and legs, stretching out the muscles, then walked into the main hall.

"Caro, Vale, Zassa." Darkus called from his chair. "Take Riaz, Vala, and Shrix upstairs, there are a few bedrooms that will be just through the doors on the left. You can put them in their own separate bedrooms, as you'll all be sleeping here for a while. Settle in, and get some rest. Help them with that too." the three nodded, carrying an individual upstairs. He heard the doors close, and then he just sat there, falling asleep in the chair that was covered in his own blood. After what he assumed was a few hours, he heard the main door knock, and moved to stand.

"Darkus, stay here." Lydia said, standing up. "I'll go check it out." she had her sword drawn, and cautiously made her way to the door. Darkus got up even after she'd told him no to, and followed. When the door opened, Darkus was greeted by the face that belonged to his father.

Something was wrong. His blue eyes flashed crimson, and he had pitch black hair. The man also wore a dark robe, tied together with ropes, and carried a ragged black sword. His features resembled his father's to a fine point, though were a little more jagged and straight than he remembered. His skin was also pale, snowy pale.

"Who are you?" Lydia asked with a snarl, brandishing her broadsword against the man. The man chuckled in a deep voice, which sent Lydia shivering in place.

"Nice to see you, too." he said, the coldest possible tone in his otherworldly deep voice. He obviously didn't mean it that way, but it was cold nonetheless. "It has been a very long time, nearly twenty years, since we last met atop the Throat of the World." Lydia prodded his chest with the tip of her blade. "Hmm, I assume you're not very fond of me taking this form to speak with you? Well, it is unfortunate, as this is my current body."

"I'm not at all fond of the form you've taken." Lydia spat through clenched teeth. "Why are you here?" the man kept the same blank face and continued looking down at the woman. "Hey! I asked you a question! Answer me!"

"I'm here for Darkus-" he began, jumping back when Lydia stabbed him a little. "-not to kidnap him, but to speak with him." Lydia lowered her blade only slightly. Darkus stepped in front of the man a little less than an inch shorter than he.

"What are you here to tell me, who are you, and why do you look like my father?" He asked, approaching the man.

"Alduin." Lydia muttered, as if trying to wash a foul taste out of her mouth. Darkus froze for a split second at the mention of his name. "So what Vilkas said was true… you are alive." Alduin nodded.

"I look like this because of what I have become." Alduin told them. "I appear this way, because it is my mortal form; the form my soul took after ceasing to be an immortal beast. I am human now, thanks to my 'brother'." Lydia actually punched him, and sent him to the ground "Ow! Odahviing was correct, you're fucking scary."  
"I see you're using Alkridir's old speaking patterns. Lucky his wife isn't around, she woulda beat you senseless for swearing in front of Darkus." She said, grinding her fist into her palm. A vein popped in her head. "And I am not scary, I don't have a clue as to where Odahviing got that idea!" Alduin stood and dusted himself off.

"Regardless, my message is important." He sighed rather angrily. "He's coming back, you know. Just not how you'd want him to. He's coming back to destroy Mundus, and begin it anew." Lydia looked angry that he would even suggest such a thing. "It isn't his fault! He's being controlled by a powerful being, and he's going to wipe us all out." Darkus knew he wasn't lying.

"What can I do about it?" He asked, staring him hard in the eyes.

"Find the rest of your hidden power, it's the only way to stop the Dragon Army. The things that approach are far beyond my strength as an immortal." Alduin replied. "You will need all of your power to survive."

"What do you mean by all of my power?"

"Those golden orbs that you found are little parts of your Dragon Soul." Alduin answered, showing Al's original toothy grin. "You see, you're actually Dragonborn, more than Dragonborn, you have the blood and the soul of a dragon inside of you."

"Uh huh?"

"Your father split that power up the day you were born, you see?"

"Yeah,"

"You're not listening, are you?" Alduin asked, a hint of irritation in his voice.

"No, not at all." Darkus replied, waving off the once immortal Dragon. "I can't really care about something I'm being told by a man who looks like my dad, but sounds like a fucking reptilian monster, no matter what shit he's trying to sell me."

"He's certainly not a pleasant person, is he?" He asked, turning to Lydia, who'd been shaking her head in her palm for the past few seconds.

"Not while you're wearing that face." She replied, gesturing to him. "Come to think of it, he's almost never pleasant when talking about anything to do with either of his parents. He doesn't even have their pictures or portraits in his room, and refuses to acknowledge the ones hanging on the walls." Alduin looked shocked.

"The offspring of the Vanquisher does not feel affection towards his father?" he asked.  
"It's not that he doesn't feel affection for Al, and don't call him the Vanquisher." She told him with a hint of irritation in her voice. "I had to deal with that enough thanks to Durnehviir." she breathed a sigh of exasperation, and walked into the main hall, where she saw Darkus staring at a portrait of a scruffed, armored, smiling Alkridir, with clenched fists. He glanced back at Lydia for a moment, then let his hands relax, and wondered to the back, into the bathhouse

"Where is he going?" Alduin asked, getting an angry and heated slap from Lydia.

"I did not invite you into my house!" she barked, pointing at him with a shaking hand. He had reeled, but only as far as her hand had shoved him. He rubbed his red cheek with a slightly angry expression on his face.

"No need to be so harsh."

* * *

Darkus unbuckled his pants and slid them off. They were, of course, the last bit of clothing he was wearing aside from his cloth. He took that off as well, grabbed his towel, and entered the bath. It was steaming inside, as it always was. He waded into the small pool, and sat down in the hot water. He was angry, that much was obvious, even to a newborn baby. His father had left him, as had his mother. He shouldn't have been mad about it, he was only sixteen, and he'd lived a very good life with guardian, Lydia. It just ate at him that his dad had disappeared without so much as a note, or a goodbye.

He sighed, stretching out his arms out of habit. He absentmindedly pulled on the long strands of jet-black hair on his head, which slipped down to his nose at the very front, and past the nape of his neck at the back. His hair was definitely from his mother. He looked at his reflection in the water, noting no key differences between him an her. Even his icy blue eyes belonged to his mother.

 _"I look exactly like her."_ he thought to himself, looking straight up at the ceiling. " _I guess it's better than being stuck with my old man's mug. At least this way I won't be mistaken as him."_ He took a deep breath, submerged his head in the water, and waited until he was sure his hair was soaked before he went back up.

 _"Is it really so bad, Darkus?"_ he heard from deep within himself. The voice was deep, gravelly, even wolfish and demonic. It was a voice he was used to hearing. It was the voice in his head he heard whenever he was aggravated, whenever he was in danger, or even whenever the beast would try to take over his body, and go on a rampage. No matter what he did, it always eventually won. Even after all of the training he was given from Aela, Vilka, Varka, Sam, he still couldn't do one thing to stop it. _"From what we've heard, you're very popular with the young ladies."_ he slapped himself for allowing the beast to think that.

 _"Stop with the stupid comments."_ he ordered, tapping the Black Silver amulet around his neck. "I don't need anyone in my life; not right now, and not for a long time." he felt the wolf shift within his body.

 _"Oh, come on! You're in your prime, here!"_ the beast roared, a sad tone in its voice. As if it could actually feel sadness. _"We don't wanna go our whole lives without a woman! Fuckin' get some, or I -!"_

"Alright, that's enough outta you!" he interrupted. "I'll marry a woman when I'm old enough and- I can't believe I'm having this conversation with myself, fuckin' divines!"

 _"We don't have conversations with ourselves."_ it said. Darkus sighed.

 _"We're having one right now."_ he retorted, attempting to shut up the stupid dog. _"I really don't care when or even if I get married, in all actuality. Besides, I've still got a good fourteen years left before my prime ends."_

"Uh-huh."

"Erm, excuse me-?" he heard someone begin. He opened his eyes and saw Shrix standing in her underwear. "I didn't realize there was someone else in here."

 _"Oh! Look at her!"_ the beast purred. Darkus averted his eyesight to the water. _"AAAAAAAAARGH! Come on!"_

 _"We both know that when something happens to one of us, it happens to both of us!"_ Darkus barked at it. _"You getting a physical reaction from her shows up on my body, asshole."_

"Do you mind if I-?"

 _"Abso-fucking-lutely."_ Darkus said to himself. He instead made a quick fake smile. "No, come on in, it's fine." he heard the wolf laugh and snigger. _"What's so damn funny?"_

 _"Darkus, We're not wearing any clothes, remember? Bwahahahaha!"_ it replied. Darkus suddenly felt very self-conscious. Being in front of people while wearing only his cloth? He was fine with that. But now he was in a room with a woman his age, completely naked, and his towel was on the dresser by the door. Shrix submerged herself into the water, but then trained her eyes on him.

* * *

Shrix stared at the small scar on Darkus' head. It matched the one she had, exactly the same. She wondered about the others she'd gotten, and if he retained them as well. He must've noticed her, because he sighed, and lifted his body out of the water enough to reveal the purple thick line and blotch on his abdomen.

"I got your scars, if that's what you're wondering." He said, quickly going back into the water. She began to wonder if he was shy. He shouldn't have been, she'd seen him naked once before, and when they were swimming across the lake, he'd been in little more than a dishcloth. "What are you even doing awake? I was sure you'd be out for at least a day." Shrix scratched her auburn head.

"I feel perfectly fine." She replied. "I guess your healing magic did more than you thought."

"Yeah, I guess so." He muttered. She gave him a look. "I heard my mother's voice. She was telling me to do things, asking me questions." He chuckled lightly. "She asked me if I wanted to save you. That's why you lived."

"Wait, so you chose whether or not I would've lived or died?!"

"Yeah, pretty much." he replied. "Wasn't a hard choice, I didn't want to just sit there and let someone die." She couldn't say she wasn't shocked. Darkus could've very well bled out from those wounds. "I'm fine, just so you don't worry. Wounds like those barely phase me." She looked at him more closely, seeing the countless lines and blotches of different colors indicating age and depth. He was covered in the scars, not too covered, but covered enough to let her know just how much combat he'd seen at his age.

She suspected he was around twenty three, only two years older than her. He was built lean and muscular, but he wasn't large, not like her brother Caro. his hair, which was blacker than the void, was almost as long as hers, and if she were being honest, Darkus looked like a woman, he was prettier than most of the women she'd ever met. His icy blue eyes were cold and beautiful to her, they were very inviting. They flashed bright amber for a moment, scaring her out of her apparent trance.

"Sorry about that." Darkus sighed, turning away. "The wolf tends to do that."

"Do what?"

"You reeled back because my eyes flashed amber, right?" he asked. Shrix nodded.

"Wait, your eyes change to amber when your primal instincts kick in?" she asked, getting a nod from Darkus. "Vala has a similar problem with her inner wolf. It tends to show when someone's irritating her." Darkus tried to keep his eyes off of her, she could see them flicker across objects all around everything except her.

Shrix sat there for a few minutes, waiting for Darkus to either start another conversation, or for him to leave so she could bathe. Rather than move, Darkus just sat there, staring up at the ceiling. She began tapping the edge of the large pool.

"Sooo… are you gonna do something, or just sit there?" she asked with a hint of irritation in her voice. Darkus shrugged.

"I er, take long baths." He said, grabbing the soap from behind his head, and starting to scrub his hair with it. He feigned a sigh. "My hair feels a little long… I think I should cut it a little bit shorter, what d'you think?" she turned around and held up her hair.

"I dunno. Hey, could you get my back?" she asked, changing the boring subject.

"No…"

"Eh? Why not?"

"I don't feel like it." he replied, continuing on his long hair. "You can get it, can't you?" she pouted out of his view.

"No, I can't. It's the one place I can't reach, just in the middle." She said with a small amount of irritation in her voice. She was sure Darkus heard the aggravated tone in her voice with his dog-like ears. "Just hurry up and get it over with, if it bothers you so much. Then I'll get you, and you'll be completely clean."

"Hmmm, nah, I'm flexible enough to get every part of my back, I'll do it myself." he explained nonchalantly. "I think I'll stay in here for a little while anyways." Shrix laughed to herself.

"What's wrong? You shy?" she grinned, finishing with her own dark hair. He nodded slightly. "Really? Come on, you're a grown ass man, at least act like it."

"Okay, I don't know why you think just because I'm a man, doesn't mean I can't have my own insecurities." He retorted with a steely tone. "And technically, I'm not a grown ass man, yet. I'm a lot younger than I might appear."

"Uh-huh, and I'm the fuckin' Khajiit warlord." she mocked in a laughing tone.

"What? I am." he said, prompting her to laugh more loudly. "Well, how old do you think I am? Judging from your height, weight, muscle toning, and scent, I'd wager you're about twenty, maybe a little older, and you were raised by your parents to be agile, and dextrous, with enough core and arm building to help you scale walls and buildings for your assassination marks." he sneered, annoying her only slightly.

"You were close, I'm twenty one. And that's not fair, you can tell from your enhanced sense of smell." She complained, crossing her arms. "Get over here, and help me with my back." with an angered and annoyed sigh, Darkus moved over behind her. She felt him begin on her back roughly, and shuddered because of it. "Hey! Take it easy!"

"Yeah, yeah, sorry." he said. She growled a little bit.

"You're taller than me, you have a build similar to Riaz's, you enjoy putting yourself in harm's way, for a man in his mid-twenties you're awfully shy about yourself, even though we've all seen you in your underwear when we went swimming earlier, you like killing people who you believe deserve it, and even despite all of that, you wouldn't let me die, even if it cost you your own life." Darkus laughed. It was genuine, deep, and a bit wolfish.

"I guess some of that is true." he told her, moving his hand down to the centre of her back. It was at that point he'd realized something was missing. The ties that should've been there to hold up her top weren't. He jumped back in surprise, and covered his eyes with his hands, which still had soap on them. "Ow!"

"Divines! Why did you cover your eyes when you had soap on your hands?!" She exclaimed, forcing his hands into the water, and cleaning out his eyes for him. She made sure there was nothing left in his eyes. "Idiot, what's wrong with you?" he blinked a few times, before he could see straight. His face suddenly went a shade of red, and he covered his eyes again. "What's wrong with you?"

"P-put on a shirt, or something please." he replied, turning to the side.

"What, never seen a pair of breasts before? At your age, you should've been married at least once..."

"I'm sixteen, for fuck's sakes!" He half-yelled. "I've lived here my whole life, only ever travelled to the cities to visit friends, or to pick up work with Lydia!" her angry expression dropped into one of embarrassment.

"Oh." Was all she could say.

"Gee, that helps the situation a ton." he said. "So, can you turn around until I leave?"

"Why?"

"Fucking Divines, I can't believe I have to spell it out for you." He said, dropping his head and shoulders.

"Wait, are you…" She began, going very red herself, except for her dark blue scales, which went a purple-crimson color. "... Not wearing anything at all?" she suddenly stared straight down into the water, and Darkus jumped back.

"What are you doing?" he asked with a suspicious glare. Shrix shrugged, getting out of the bath and leaving.

She had just gotten all of her clothes back on when the doors opened again, and Lydia walked through them. She seemed unphased by Shrix's presence. She had begun getting undressed, most likely to bathe herself.

"Oh, Darkus is in there, and he's not dressed." Shrix told her, walking through the door as Lydia paused.

"Stop right there." Lydia ordered in a flat, angry tone. "What were the two of you doing in there?" the look of raw fury on Lydia's face was enough to leave Shrix shivering in her boots.

"Nothing, I swear!" she assured, waving Lydia off. "We just talked, and I didn't find out he was naked until just before I left!" Lydia let off after a moment, put her boots back on, and walked back out through the doors.

"Just be more careful," Lydia warned. "There's a lot more of Darkus that you don't want to see."

* * *

The dark streets of Windhelm were cold. An old Nord stumbled aimlessly through the Gray Quarter, a large neighborhood of Dark Elves with a population of roughly eight thousand men, women, and children. The man fell down on the top steps of the New Genesis Corner Club he was so drunk.

In the alleyways, a man draped in a dark cloak, wearing a hood, and carrying a long knife. He silently stalked through the frost and snow covered streets, tailing his target, a young woman with dark copper colored hair. She looked behind her, startled by a noise she'd heard. But it wasn't him. He'd already climbed to the top of the building. The guard in the watchtower was turned around, not watching, not listening. But if the man had learned anything since the days a young boy begged for the Dark Brotherhood to kill an old woman, it was make sure no one can see you, no matter what. That meant no potential witnesses.  
He drew another knife from his belt. It was gnarly, but balanced in his hands. He smiled, throwing the knife through the throat of the guard, who dropped without a sound, then he continued on his path of stalking the Nordic woman. She turned corner after corner, and he followed, waiting for the right opportunity. He finally found the perfect location and conditions after she passed the darkest alley way. He jumped down, knocking the wind out of her as he landed on her chest. He quickly gagged her, allowing no sound to exit her mouth by covering it quickly. He carried her into the alley, where he cut her a little, chuckling to himself as she screamed as much as she could.

After he had his fun torturing her, he had his way with her. The man ravaged the poor helpless woman, finally breaking her legs and arms when he was done. She cried in fear, agony, pain, and it was what made his smile return to his face.

"I can't say I'm sorry, young lady." he said. "That's because I'm not." He circled her, kicking her as he went, before he stopped, kneeling down by her head with a letter in his hand. "I just found the best opportunity to have my fun, and pin it on someone else," he put the letter over her heart, and drew an Altmeric dagger. "The Aldmeri Dominion, if you were wondering, and that gives the army the push they need to march on the Dominion's lines." he chuckled, plunging the dagger into her heart, watching as her life left her. "Of course, I get my own fun."

The man looked at the picture of his next target, a man with black hair. He grinned, looking at the boy so perfectly replicated by the portrait spell.

"You help me, I kill your son," The man said. "Seems fair to me." he looked back at his female victim. "Of course, luring you out won't be easy. I have thus far only murdered women, killing a boy will be different." he grinned. "He is a Dominion target, I could pin it on them as well…"

* * *

 **the story got a little dark at the end there, but that's how the Aretino Muders Arc begins. again, please leave a review of what you liked, disliked, or want to see, and it may even come up later on in the story.**


	6. Chapter 6: Murderous Intentions

4E 221, 12th of Mid Year.

Darkus blocked Lydia's arcing overhand swing, taking a step back to balance himself out. He took a step forward, using his momentum in his swing to bring his longsword down on Lydia, who blocked the strike easily. She took the opportunity to slam the pommel of her hilt into the back of his head. He rolled away to recover from it, and was able to block her next strike, but at the cost of his own sword. Lydia had snapped the Elven blade in half, leaving Darkus with only a small portion of his usual weapon.

He took a deep breath, calming himself for the next strike. He was used to Lydia's fighting style, but she still outdid him by nearly four decades of experience. Lydia struck high, like she always did. Instead of blocking that attack, Darkus dropped down, catching Lydia's foot and putting it back. He knew her attack through and through.

The two swords clashed again, completely destroying what remained of Darkus' sword, breaking it into little shards of uselessness. Lydia remained unfatigued, an unscathed broadsword in her hands.

"Remember what that old monk taught you?" She asked in a mocking tone. Darkus remembered. Two full years of training in the Khajiiti Martial Art of the Whispering Fang, both spent atop an Elsweyr mountain. He was only nine years old when it started. He walked into Lydia's strike, rolled along the blade, and grabbed Lydia's arm and shoulder. He kicked out her right leg, and brought his elbow down into the middle of her back. She recovered from it like it was nothing. Lydia definitely wasn't normal. She was superhuman, she had to be, being able to get up from a strike like that one.

Then again, Darkus had never mastered the Martial Art. He'd gotten farther along in those two years than most make in ten, starting out a Novice, then becoming an Adept. He was unable to master the spiritual side of it, never meditating properly, never able to accept that reality could be altered so much in one's own favor. He could fight open-handed, palm strikes and finger jabs into the body's pressure points, those were child's play for him. No matter how hard he tried, he would never be able to master the mental or spiritual training.

Lydia threw her weapon into the air, waiting until the blade stuck into the ground. She took a step forward, throwing a quick jab at Darkus' head. Darkus blocked it, redirecting the blow past his head, where he was able to strike the muscled on her left arm, effectively numbing her arm. He smiled a little bit.

"Whispering Fang; Tiger." he told her, opening his hands to form claws. She grinned, her muscles twitching and flexing beneath her skin until she was able to move it freely again. She grabbed her bicep with her right hand, and followed up by flexing each of her fingers. She came at him hard and fast, jabbing quickly enough that he needed to react from instinct. He punched hard, catching her in the stomach, and throwing her about eight feet back. She looked happy.

"Good shot, kid," she said with a wide grin. Darkus smiled back, taking a step forwards. Lydia was suddenly behind him. She didn't dash over, she completely disappeared from his view for a split second. "But not good enough." She chopped the back of his neck and put him on the ground. He stood up with a groan. "You would've gotten me if I weren't me." Darkus wanted to ask her what she meant, but they were interrupted when a man called out to them.

"Miss Lydia, Lord Lite." the man dressed in common clothes said approaching the two. Darkus knew him. He was the courier, the same one that he'd met several years prior. He looked over to the gawking Dark Brotherhood children, and sank.

"What is it, Lione?" Lydia asked the short man. He reached into his satchel and pulled out a handful of letters, rifling through them and placing only two or three back. One letter had the Windhelm seal on it, the sigil of Ulfric Stormcloak.

"I have a few letters for one Lydia Lakeview," He replied handing her half of the letters. He then took the blue envelope and handed it to Darkus along with one from Whiterun. "And two for Lord Darkus Lite, directly from the hands of Great Lord Jarl Balgruuf the Greater and High King of Windhelm, Ulfric Stormcloak." Lydia's eyebrows quirked.

"What is Darkus doing, getting letters from the hands of two of Skyrim's Jarls?" She asked the small man. The man began to sweat, but shrugged regardless.

"Oh, just some work I've done in the past for them probably." Darkus told her, getting her attention off of the small middle-aged man. He opened up Jarl Balgruuf's letter first, reading through its contents with a light sigh. The first page was a letter of grief, expressing the Jarl's deep regret at the deaths of Farkas Wolven, Saire Wolven, and their son Samuel Farkasson, Lydia and Darkus' long-time friends. "It's the, er, Letter of Regrettable Grief." he said, handing the letter to Lydia. Darkus opened the second letter, and his heart fell into his stomach.

 _Darkus Lite, Lord of Lakeview manor, Son of Thane Alkridiir, Dragonborn._

 _I, High King Ulfric Stormcloak, request your assistance in a string of murder investigations. I call upon you this day, reasoned by the winter you spent in Windhelm as a guard of the Palace of Kings, and later lead Detective on the Ritual Murders of the Grey Quarter._

Darkus gulped, knowing what was coming next.

 _The murder victims have all been young women, Nordic of birth, and in their mid-late twenties. They've been killed in the dark, under the cover of night. The women themselves have been tied up, tortured, cut up, and then finally stabbed through the heart._

 _I ask you to come to Windhelm investigate the murders yourself, you shall be rewarded handsomely for your servitude._

 _I would also request your official instatement as a captain of the Imperial-Skyrim Military, a fighter on the front lines of the Aldmeri Templar war._

 _This is all, I remain_

 _Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak, High King of Skyrim, Co-general of the Imperial-Skyrim Military._

"What's that?" Lydia asked him, snatching the blue paper out of his hands. She read it before he could grab at it again, and then crumpled it up in shaking, clenched, enraged fists. She had a look of rage that could rival the presence of a dragon. She glared at him. "When did this happen?" Darkus backed off a little.

"Don't get so fucking pissed at me!" he retorted. "You left me in Windhelm for six months when I was twelve years old! I had to do something to occupy my time, so I investigated a few murders. As it turned out, a man was killing off young elves and Argonians, so I ended up chasing him down, and locking him up!" Lydia seemed content with his answer, breathed out slowly, and unclenched her fists.

"Alright." she sighed. "I guess it is my fault for leaving you there for six months. I should have just let you stay home." she handed the letter back to Darkus, and gave him a grim smile.

"What?"

"You've been summoned personally by the High King of Skyrim," She chuckled, scratching her chin. "You have little choice but to go, so you will go." Darkus looked surprised. "I will go with you, and I'm choosing who else is going." Darkus looked questioning. "Them." he looked at the Dark Brotherhood children, and the Altmer Defect, and sank.

"Do you know how much money this is gonna cost me?" he asked in a near-crying voice. Lydia grinned.

"Everyone, get ready!" she called to the rest of them. "Hurry up, we want to move as fast as possible, here!" Vale crossed her arms.

"Lydia, if you don't mind, I'm gonna stay back with the Defect." She announced. "I'm uninterested in a murder that doesn't have to do with me." Lydia nodded. "And I'd like it if Caro, Zassa, and Vala stayed here with me." Lydia dropped her shoulders, as Vale had just cut the party down to the veteran soldier, two assassins, and a teenager who's seen too much combat for a kid.

"Alright, I want everyone who's still coming to get their things, and get in the carriage." she sighed angrily.

The remaining four piled into the carriage and rode throughout the night. Nothing happened on the first few days, the four took the most direct path to Windhelm, passing Whiterun entirely. They had finally gotten to the Valtheim Towers after four days of riding, which had a young Redguard woman posted out front. She strode up to the carriage and held out her hand.

"Halt, travelers." She ordered. "This here's a toll road." She grinned, gesturing to the stones that were pressed into the ground. "Let's say… five hundred gold, and we'll call it good?" Darkus gave her an annoyed stare, then looked back at Lydia.

"Can I kill her?" he asked, getting a shocked yet angry stare from the woman. Lydia shook her head in her hand. "What?"

"You can't just ask me if you can kill someone, no matter how obviously a bandit she is." She replied, tossing Darkus an Elven longsword. "But that's a yes, you can." he grinned, vaulting the sides of the carriage and cleaving the woman's head from her shoulders. He rushed through the doors, leaving Lydia and Shrix sitting on the benches. Lydia was unphased by what Darkus was doing, but Shrix was slightly concerned, and she killed for a living.

"Should I go in and help him?" she asked Lydia, pointing at the wooden doorway. Lydia shook her head.

"I wouldn't if I were you." She replied without a tone to her voice that expressed any care. "You'll only get in his way." Shrix looked a little concerned. Lydia seemed to sing that last part. "Trust me, you're a stealthy person. Handy with a dagger, and maybe a bow, but Darkus isn't like you. He has a rather… angry side that you don't want to get in the way of."

"I already know he's a werewolf, if that's what you mean." Shrix told her.

"Yeah, I figured." she replied. "You should know that from time to time, he needs to kill something. It doesn't matter what, but he needs to kill it." Shrix didn't find any fear in that. Her instincts were to kill, after all. Kill stealthily, make sure the mark is dead, hide the body, and escape. It didn't matter who it was, she enjoyed killing sometimes, depending on who the target was. "He will transform again very soon. The full moons are nearly here, and when that happens, he'll go out of control." to Shrix it sounded more like a warning than a friendly piece of advice.

"Is he gonna be okay?" Riaz asked from beside where Darkus was a few moments prior, covered in a large amount of blood on the left of his body. He didn't look too happy about it either.

"Yeah, He'll be fine." Lydia assured, wiping the slick red liquid off of his armor. "He does this all the time."

"Shockingly, that doesn't help my mental state." He told her. "And I'm a fucking assassin."

Darkus finally came back with a smile on his face. She noticed just how long his incisor teeth were, almost like a set of fangs. He climbed back into the carriage with a few small bags of septims, and the driver continued on his way after Darkus threw him a bag of coin.

The group then continued through the next several nights, Lydia and the man at the reins trading places whenever one was too tired. They passed through the marshes, and came across nothing of any note, no bandits, no animals, no creatures, no nothing. The only time they saw another person was when they finally spotted a Khajiit caravan crew walking along the roads. Darkus and the others hopped out of the wooden ride, waved Jork goodbye, and continued to Windhelm with the Khajiit.

Apparently, Lydia had travelled with that particular group before. She gave the man a respectful bow, and the four departed for the city's gates. A guardswoman stopped the four at the gate.

"You're Darkus Lite, correct sir?" She asked, sounding slightly more enthusiastic than she should have. Darkus nodded, and the guard cheered, taking his hand in her own. "Thank you for avenging my Father's killer four years ago." she was fully masked, but it was obvious that she was very young, only around his age, if he were to wager, and she was a half-elf, he could smell it on her.

"Excuse me miss, I have an audience with Jarl Ulfric Storm-" he began, hearing the sound of metal being thrown, the sharp sound of steel whizzing through the air. He knew that when he reacted, the others would too, but he was the target, and if he moved, the woman would be killed. He tackled her to the ground as the dagger barely skimmed the skin on his neck, and passed straight past the young guard, who escaped unscathed. He rolled back onto his feet to see a cloak fly over the wall into Windhelm.

"Thank you again, kind-"

"Take us to Ulfric." He interrupted, smelling the air. "Now! Open the gates, hurry up!" the guard nodded, and the second one, who Darkus could tell was shaken by what happened, shoved the gates wide open, and allowed the party to run through the streets unaccompanied.

They crashed through the doors of the Palace of Kings, and closed them quickly, getting the attention of the man on the Jarl's throne. He was accompanied by an Altmer woman and their two children, who also looked over to him in shock. The man soon smiled at the spectacle of the boy with black hair who'd grown a foot and a half since the last time they met.

"Darkus, so you've come." the Jarl's voice boomed through the halls. "I am grateful to be in your presence, son of the Dragonborn." Darkus rolled his eyes by accident. The Jarl's son, Jurgen, was about nineteen, and his daughter Vasi was only two years younger than that. Darkus bowed to the High King, but he didn't kneel. The Jarl didn't seem upset by this, and if he was, he wasn't showing him.

"The honor is ours, great Ulfric Stormcloak." Darkus said to the King. "I'm here on this eve to conduct business with the lordship of Windhelm."

Behind him, Shrix and Riaz widened their eyes. Darkus was speaking in a voice and speech pattern consistent with a nobleman, even royalty. He was speaking politely, very unlike him. Ulfric stood from his chair and wandered over to the small group. He was an old man, nearly seventy years of age, but he moved like a young man on the battlefield. His once chestnut colored hair was grey and white, completely devoid of any color. Darkus stood, and the man embraced Darkus as if he were family.

"Thank you for coming," he said, turning to walk with Darkus. "Now, for the matter at hand…"

"I'm only here to solve the murders, nothing more, nothing less." Darkus informed him, stepping away from the man. "Once I have done my job, I leave. No questions asked. Who knows? Maybe I'll even let the man die painlessly." Ulfric gave him a slight frown and questioning look.

"How do you know the killer is a man?" Ulfric asked. Darkus showed him the recently healed cut on his neck.

"Because he tried to kill me before I entered the city, of course." He replied nonchalantly. He noticed that the bronze-haired half-elf was eyeing him rather closely, too closely for his liking. She was nordic looking enough, just with sharper features than a typical Nord. "I will not become a member of the Army, and I will not accept any less than four hundred septims for this man's life, regardless of his body's state." Ulfric looked a little disappointed to hear it, but nodded in contempt

"Very well, Thane of Eastmarch." Ulfric said, walking back to his throne to receive a blackened sword from his wife.

"Thane?" Darkus asked.

"Yes," Ulfric said, turning back to him. "As the Jarl of this hold, and High King of Skyrim, and in thanks of the great servitude you have offered, and offer now, I name thee Darkus Lite, Thane of Eastmarch, and I grant you this weapon as statement of your new title, and your new badge of office." The Jarl dubbed Darkus with the heavy Ebony longsword, and then sheathed it within a black scabbard, and handed it to him. Darkus took the sword, feeling its weight in his hands. It was heavier than he was used to, but not too heavy. Darkus strapped the weapon to his back, over his right shoulder, and bowed.

"I will use it well, M'lord," he assured, turning to leave. "And I will find the killer."

Darkus fell into his bed in Candlehearth Hall. He wasn't tired, he was actually wide awake. He needed to hunt something, the sooner the better. He had to ask around, follow up on clues, figure out the signature, cause of death. He had to go.

He put the belts back on, reattached his sword to his back, and headed out. He didn't bother with any armor, just his basic clothes and cloak. He carefully made his way through the tavern, avoiding Lydia, and the two Dark Brotherhood members, who were drinking a lot of mead, and snuck out the side doors.

The stone streets were white with frost and snow, any person recently killed would would have steam rise from their blood. He'd be able to smell it anyways if he couldn't stop it. He ran to the houses across the street, jumping and climbing the one nearest to him. The wind bit at his face when he stood at the top, but he didn't mind it. For him, it wasn't too bad yet. He scanned the dimly lit city with his sight, smell, and hearing, but didn't find anything noteworthy.

A few women, probably prostitutes judging by the time of night it was, were walking the Grey Quarter, which he'd been meaning to visit anyways, but other than that, the streets were empty. He could see the guards in their towers, and knew he had to move without arousing their suspicions, so he ran quietly across the rooftops, jumping from building to building, until he got to the Grey Quarter. That's when he heard the scream.

It wasn't loud, or drawn out, or even pained. It was something that only his ears were able to pick up. He ran to the source of the sound, and made sure he was careful. The guards in the towers that he passed were missing. He climbed into them to check, finding that the guards were dead, all of them. He saw a black cloak flit around the side of a building. He jumped down to the ground, drew his weapon, and made his way into the dark alleyway.

He was too late. There was already a woman with steam rising off of her bloodied body. He cursed, and cautiously walked over to the corpse. The knife was still stuck in her chest, so he removed it from her. He looked the small knife over. It was made of ebony, black as the void, and it was horribly made. It was probably just put together, sharpened, and used to kill a woman. He looked at the victim closely, wishing he hadn't.

 _Obvious signs of sexual assault and torture. One stab wound, left breast, straight through heart. Dark haired, mid twenties, slim, poor. The woman fought back, at least until she was bound. He gagged her, but removed it when he killed her so she could scream._ He covered her body with the cloak she must've been wearing, and stood straight up _._

" _It's a trap."_ he came to realize. _"He wouldn't have let her scream, risk giving up himself for no reason. He was trying to lure his next victim here."_ he turned around to see the black cape flit around the corner, and ran to pursue it. He rounded the corner in time to see the man flawlessly scale the cold stone walls. Darkus followed him, running as fast as he dared on the icy rooftops. The man turned and showed him a gleaming smile, as he jumped off of the roof and threw three daggers at Darkus. Darkus slipped trying to dodge them, but managed to evade two. The third lodged itself into Darkus' left shoulder as he fell, slid off the roof himself, and landed on his back on the hard cobblestone road.

He was winded, couldn't draw breath, but managed to roll onto his side and shakily rise to his feet. Only for a second, he fell down almost immediately and coughed in agony. His shoulder blade was cracked in several places, and he'd broken two ribs. He growled angrily, forcing himself onto his feet. Clutching his ribs with his hand, he angrily stalked through the streets, trying to pick up any scent of the man he could, but he unturned nothing. Angrier than he had been before he left the Inn, Darkus headed back to wait until the next day to proceed with his investigation. He'd need to see the other women to know for sure if it was the exact same as the one he'd seen that night.

Shrix's vision was fuzzy. She didn't feel too well, and was rather irritable. She was drunk, it was to be expected. She was completely void of any self control at that point, anything anyone said to her would either make her laugh, or make her want to kill that person. She looked at the twelve mugs that she'd downed, then to Riaz off to her right, who had passed out with his eighth mug still in his hands, and grinned with pride.

"Is that all ya got, kid?" Lydia sounded from her left. Shrix took a look at the older Nord, who had a neat stack of close to thirty next to her. She looked no better than Shrix felt, and she was sure Lydia's liver was suffering for it too. Lydia fell onto her back on the hardwood floor, laughing rather hysterically. Shrix began chuckling as well.

"Looks like I know what my limits are better than you do." She said, taking a drink from her new cup of mead. The sound of the wooden door opening, and then the sudden wave of cold air washing over her made her shiver. More so than it should have. She looked over at the door to see Darkus shrouded completely by shadow. The cold icy stare in his glowing eyes chilled her to the bone. He was angry about something, she could see it in the way his iris' swirled and burned like white flame. Something had happened when he'd left, which was strange to her since she couldn't recall him ever being in the hall in the first place, let alone slipping out the doors.

He walked slowly to the bar, with an angry snarl marring his usual pretty feminine features. It was animalistic, not wolfish, it was more reptilian. It was feral. When he saw Lydia on the ground, his expression softened. He picked her up, setting her on the stool beside him, and taking the seat between her and Shrix. The barmaid, a young woman with flaxen hair, asked Darkus if he wanted a drink. Darkus shook his head politely, keeping his eyes on Lydia. She had also passed out in her seat, and had begun snoring loudly.

With a light sigh, Darkus picked her up, steel plated armor and all, and carried her down the hall to her room. He returned a few minutes later for Riaz.

"I'll be right back for you," he told her as he turned to walk away. She snorted, turning back to her cup. He came back in a few seconds this time, which Shrix was surprised with. "What's wrong?" he asked when he saw her raised brows.

"How come it took you longer to get back here when you carried Lydia to her room?" she asked without being able to stop herself. Darkus groaned.

"You're so drunk, I might end up carrying a second Lydia to bed," he murmured. "I had to get her out of that steel. She'd wake up sore and pissed off if I didn't, not to mention hungover." shrix laughed.

"Y-you undressed an old woman, heh heh," she laughed stupidly. "And got her into bed, Ha! Ha! Ha!" she'd almost started crying. Darkus was really not in the mood, but of course, she couldn't tell.

"Yeah yeah, are you gonna be alright?" he asked as she swayed. "Will you be able to change into your clothes, or are you planning on sleeping in your armor too?" Shrix misheard him. She thought he'd just asked her if she wanted him to undress her.

"Like I'd let you get anywhere near my armor fastenings!" she snorted, gaining an expression of confusion from the boy.

"When in Oblivion did armor fastenings enter the conversation?" he asked her with a hint of irritation. "Look, I just wanna know whether or not I'm carrying you to your room, and that's it. Gods, I hate drunks."

Shrix had misinterpreted what he'd said entirely, taking it as an advance on her. Without any warning, she wrapped her arms around Darkus' neck, and kissed him. Darkus' eyes flew wide open as he tried to escape her grasp. She tasted blood on his tongue and teeth, which was enough to trigger a drunken gag. She broke off of him, ran outside, and puked over the balcony railing. It burned like fire, worse than when she'd downed it earlier as ale.

"Ick! Why did you advance on me without cleaning your mouth?!" she barked at him, as he'd followed her through the doors. "Who's blood was that anyways?!" Darkus bit back an angry growl.

"My own blood, and I'd wash that out if I were you; werewolf blood is very potent." he replied in a gruff tone. "Also, I didn't make an advance on you! I asked if you were too drunk to walk back to your room alone. I can see you're not now, at least after that run for the walkway." he held a glass in his hand, water most likely, and gave it to her. "Rinse your mouth with this. It'll get rid of the vomit and blood." she only then realised that he wasn't using his left arm at all, and he seemed to wince a little when breathing or moving. That thought sobered her up.

"A-are you hurt?!" she asked in surprise. He attempted to hide the limp arm by pulling his cloak to his neck. She rinsed out her mouth then grabbed for the thin black fabric, which he pulled away from, accidentally pulling the entire thing off to reveal his bloodstained white shirt, and obviously dislocated arm.

"I'm fine." he retorted with a sudden jerk away from her outstretching arms. His eyes flitted amber for a moment, and his incisors seemed to grow as well. He reached over, popped his arm back into place, and then swung it in small circles to make sure it was fine before he walked back into the inn to return to his room.

Shrix followed him, barging through his door without warning. He had his shirt off already, and she could see the thin line from his most recent wound. He shot a glare of annoyance her way, but dropped down on his bed regardless.

"I told you; I'm fine." he growled through clenched teeth. Without another word, he closed his eyes and didn't move.

The elderly priestess gave Darkus a suspicious stare. She had already wrapped most of the victims, but several were still in need of care. He had requested a look of them to confirm that all of them fit the signature. Of course, they were all women and unclothed, so the priestess must've thought he was some sort of necrophiliac, or something. He actually had to flash the Ebony blade with Ulfric's sigil in its pommel to convince her. Ridiculous.

"Thank you for being so cooperative, Priestess." he said with respect. He looked all of them over, and it was confirmed. They all were killed by the same person. It was symbolic. The rape was more of a lead away, just something the killer did to appear out of the ordinary, to lead the guards away from him. That part made Darkus growl and grind his teeth. "Priestess, I need access to the first corpse with this set of conditions;" he cleared his throat. "Bruising from being tied up, lacerations and bruises from shallow-cut torture, and a single dagger wound through the left of the chest." the woman scoffed, making a sound of disgust at his request, but proceeded through her ledgers, finally nodding, and bringing up a three month old, terribly reeking body. Darkus nearly lost his breakfast when he caught the scent. He thanked the woman with a nod, and proceeded with opening the linen wraps. He paused.

"Is there a problem?" the priestess asked. Darkus shook his head, and continued his evaluation.

" _What in the name of Arkay?"_ he asked himself, looking at the corpse of an elderly woman, who had only a single, thin streak of brown. _"All of the other victims have been_ young _women. Why is the first one an old widow? Unless…"_ he turned back to the angry looking priestess. "Get anyone else in here to look for _anyone_ who has a stab wound through the left of her upper torso. It's important." the woman glared at him again, sighing and nodding as she left Darkus with the bodies. She returned with a younger priestess, who was carrying a large leather bound book. She handed it to him.

"This is all we have about the murder patterns you described." the younger priestess explained, opening up to the middle of the book. "All of the women were in their twenties, or early thirties." Darkus pointed to the elderly woman.

"And what about her?" he asked.

"This woman was about forty five, when we listed her dead a few months ago…" she replied, looking at the woman with sad recognition in her eyes. "All of the others were younger than her, and all of them had dark brown hair… but why do you need to know this? What's the point?" Darkus had a hunch.

"How many women have been killed thus far?" he asked.

"Twenty one? Twenty four, maybe?" she inquired. Darkus nodded.

"And the women are always younger than the previous victim, correct?" he asked her, gaining a nod from the priestess. "Well, at least he's got a consistency. This woman, the elderly one, she was the first victim, meaning she was the trigger. She set him off." he pointed to the stab wound, pointing out how jagged and mangled the flesh was. "She was stabbed in the heat of the moment, possibly while enraged."

"She angered the killer, and then he stabbed her in a fit of rage?" the older priestess asked with a raised brow. Darkus shrugged, holding his chin between his fingers.

"I think I know who the killer is, and why." Darkus told them, smiling as thanks for their help, and leaving to find Lydia. He was too focused on his objective, he didn't notice the frequency increase, nor the age of the last target…

He found her exactly where he'd thought she would be. Arguing with Ulfric about Darkus' enrollment within the military. Darkus could actually _feel_ the sinister, black energy that surrounded the warmaiden. The look on her face was reptilian in nature, draconic even. Ulfric wasn't a man who scared easily, yet Darkus could see that even he was sweating. Darkus interrupted the heated conversation before it became a battle of voices.

"I believe I know the identity of the murderer." he told them with a large toothy grin. Lydia could see his eagerness to catch the villain who had slain so many. Darkus was almost too far gone. His pupils were slit amber, his incisor teeth looked like fangs, his hair had even gone ragged and bushy. The full moon was only two days away, but already he held the appearance of a feral beast. It would pass once he calmed down, which he did once he saw Lydia staring at him with wrathful eyes.

"Tell us who." she ordered.

"I believe the killer is Aventus Aretino." he said, the halls echoing his words. Ulfric was stunned. "The first kill was an older woman, similar in appearance to his mother. She once held dark copper colored hair, but it had begun turning grey when she'd gotten sick and died. Then, in a fit of rage, possibly because the woman had hit him or angered him, the woman became his old Orphanage mistress, Grelod the Kind. he stabbed her straight through the heart, exactly where the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood had so many years ago." Lydia nodded.

"You definitely have your father's instinct." she complimented. Then she heard laughter.

"Oh, yes he does!" a cloaked man applauded from behind Ulfric's daughter. "An excellent detective, finding me out!" he barked, tensing a knife against Vasi's throat. Lydia moved to draw her weapon. "Ah! I wouldn't if I were you!" Lydia looked down at the runes beneath her feet, and tensed. Ulfric wouldn't dare put his daughter's life on the line. Darkus' appearance shifted again, and in a split second, he was able to move fast enough to substitute his right arm for Vasi's neck, effectively saving her from the clutches of the murderer. The man groaned in anguish, and darted back.

"Get over here!" Darkus ordered, trying to move. He fell on the ground, feeling his tendons and muscles snap from the extreme pressure and strain he put upon them. "I'll kill you, you hear?!" the man merely chuckled. He willed his legs to chase after the villain, tracking him to Candlehearth Hall, which had been destroyed beyond recognition. He found Riaz propped up against a wall, but Shrix was nowhere to be found.

Then he saw it. The bloodstained parchment, held in place by a crude dagger, protruding from a young barmaid's chest. He tore it off and opened the blood-soaked paper.

 _I was watching you. The little Half-Lizard will be coming with me, back to the place where it all began. You'd better hurry up, Wolf of the North, or young Shrix will die in the same way as all of my others._

 _-The Man in Black._

Darkus' fists were shaking, his body began to shift in mass, change shape, and grow fur. His bones snapped and his muscles ripped as his massive black-furred wolf-form roared out a song of absolute rage and fury. Its amber eyes glowed like two hot coals, shining in the black of night. He snarled and tore towards his target, growling and roaring along the way.

"When I find you, Aretino…" he growled in a monstrous, gravelly, wolfish tone. A voice so cold and devoid of mercy that the birds and animals around him would have feared to even be in his presence. "I'LL FUCKING RIP YOU LIMB FROM LIMB!"

The sight was something truly terrifying to behold. Riaz watched and listened as Darkus' body shuddered, convulsed, was ripped apart and regrown, and became a ten-foot tall snarling monster, lined with thick muscle that looked harder than steel. The beast didn't attack him however. It didn't notice him. It tore off with an animalistic and feral growl that chilled Riaz to the bone. The claws on the beast were about eight inches in length, enormous for a werebeast. His snarling maw was Husky in shape, but his raggy and standing black fur made him look like a wild Skyrim wolf. His large canines were each the size of Riaz's fingers, and the eyes that glowed like two ominous coals in the otherwise blackness bore deep into his soul, an image that would always be there.

The wolf bolted, the ground and debris being shaken apart as the massive form silently destroyed anything in its way. The sound that followed was like a clap of growling thunder, something that blasted Riaz's ears so loudly he had to cover his ears and draw into the fetal position. He shuddered for a few minutes, continuing to hear and feel the growls Darkus was making from even a mile away.

"Riaz!" Lydia called out, sword drawn as she approached. "Get up! We need to move!" Riaz shakily stood, ready to lose his dinner. "What's wrong?! Where did Darkus go?!"

"I-I don't know!" he cried, attempting to keep his head straight. Lydia snorted, and thrust a bow into his hands, along with a quiver of silver-tipped arrows. "What the-?"

"You're the archer, make sure you have a beat on the killer." she ordered, reinfusing his confidence. He nodded, running to follow her.

The two ran past crumbling cobblestone, and splintered wood. Riaz wondered how in Oblivion Lydia wasn't frozen in fear. She wasn't even breaking a sweat. _How?!_

"Riaz, take the rooftops!" Lydia barked, snapping him out of his state.

"Yes ma'am," he replied, jumping several feet in the air, over and over until he was gliding across the icy rooftops. His balance was perfect, no matter what surface he was standing on. He was the archer, like his sister. The two siblings were perfect snipers.

"What d'you see, cat?" Lydia asked from below. His eyes flickered, allowing him to see clearly in the night.

"I see nothing, ma'am," he replied, as he had so many times with the guild leader on their missions together. He was no longer terrified. In fact, his mind was focused. He had a target, something he was going to kill. He grinned to himself as he saw the monstrous form round the corner, tailing a cape. "There! The third street from here, left!" out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lydia nod, and speed by faster than he thought possible.

He cut the corner in time to watch the werewolf blast through a thick cobblestone wall. Riaz had to give it to Darkus; he was powerful when he was mad. There weren't any screams, but moments later, Riaz heard another crash, and barreled towards the fleeing man and wolf. Rooftops blurred past his cold-stung eyes as he closed in on them, Lydia not too far ahead.

As the beast and man stopped atop the walls of Windhelm, Riaz could hear a bloodcurdling scream. A scream, he recognized, belonged to Shrix, which was followed by a roar, and a sickening slice of flesh.

"Riaz, fire!" Lydia barked with a hint of pain in her voice. Without nodding, without even thinking, Riaz drew back, let out a breath, and released his arrow.

The arrow from nowhere struck Aventus Aretino in the left of his chest. He fell back, an odd expression on his face. Darkus, who had been stabbed in the back with Aventus' dagger, held Shrix. He was back in his mortal form, but he had saved Shrix from what would've been a fatal stab wound for her.

Aventus was still alive. Darkus could tell from the faint breathing coming from the man's bloodied form. He groaned as he lifted himself on his elbows, wincing and grinning madly. Darkus put Shrix down, and stood up before the sharp pain in his back forced him back onto his knees.

"What's… so gods damned funny?" he struggled, crawling closer to Aretino's bloody form. Aretino struggled, holding his guts inside.

"You're… exactly… like him." he breathed, an odd fascination in his eyes. "It's odd, I always wanted to kill you, as your father was the driving force behind my murdering." Darkus snorted.

"No. you murdered because you wanted to," he told him through clenched teeth. "You can't blame anyone for your own bloodlust." Aretino gave him an odd look through his beard, almost like a frown. Darkus looked him directly in the eyes, showing the serial killer exactly who he was. "I'm not saying killing is wrong. There's no way around it." he got up on his knees, slowly raising himself to his feet. "In fact, killing is one of my favourite pastimes, but there's a difference between us." he picked up the man and held him over the wall. "I kill rapists, murderers, and thieves who deserve it. All of these of which you are."

"Heh, you're wrong you know, kid." he chuckled, as Darkus released his grip on the man's clothing, letting him fall to his death. "I mean, you're right about me. I kill because I want to. But you..." he then closed his eyes in surrender. "You kill because you love to."

Darkus' heart sank into his stomach, and he dropped down onto his knees. He realized, in some sick, angering way, Aventus was correct. Darkus liked to kill. It made him feel alive, the way he was able to watch someone's final breath escape their bodies. In hindsight that's probably what made him so good at hunting killers.

He reached behind him, grabbed the hilt of the long bladed dagger, which was hilt deep in his back, and tugged hard. He winced and growled as the ragged chunk of metal tore through his flesh, and came free. He looked at it, catching the scent of poison, something made specifically for his kind, and dropped it.

Not only was this dagger crudely made, and smithed of silver, but it was poisoned with vampire's blood, and from what he could smell, some type of other poison with a magic-nullifying substance within.

 _Great._ He thought to himself, feeling his wounds close slightly slower than normal. The thing about his werewolf healing wasn't that it healed him perfectly instantly. On the contrary, it sealed up his wounds and stopped the bleeding, but the internal damage had to heal on its own. Granted, it still healed faster than normal because of his healing. _Well, might as well get comfortable, I'm not gonna be moving for hopefully a few hours..._

He felt a shift off to his left, and a little ways away from him. He looked down, seeing Shrix's single, long cut along the right of her jaw. He bit his lip.

"Shit…" he said. "Not quite fast enough." _that's what happens when you lose control, Darkus._ He thought to himself. _It was stupid to do that._

" _But I got to have a little bit of fun! Isn't it worth it?"_ the wolf within asked, slightly apologetically. _"I mean, yeah, I kinda lost it on him a little bit, got too reckless, and-"_

" _And nothing,"_ Darkus interrupted. _"You scratched Shrix's face, got a knife stabbed through our back, and killed the guy we were supposed to arrest."_ the wolf grunted disdain.

" _Technically, you killed him."_

" _He was gonna bleed out anyways, thanks to you."_

He looked down to her again, wondering if she'd sustained any other injuries because of him. Nothing that he could see, but that didn't make him feel any better. He made himself crawl back over to her, but unfortunately, he blacked out before he could make it there.


	7. Chapter 7: The Invasion Begins

Darkus forced his heavy eyelids to open. He was laying in a bed, inside of a grey stone room. There was no one else in the room, and he couldn't smell anyone within the vicinity. He grunted and winced as he rose to his feet, carefully treading over to the door, and opening it. What met him was a freezing bite of cold on his exposed chest. He groaned in irritation, and continued walking through the halls at a steady fatigued pace. He almost fell over when he attempted to go down a flight of stairs.

"Fuck!" he blurted when he slammed into the wall. He looked down the hall, but didn't hear anything. On instinct, he walked down the hall he was facing, opening a door to the great hall before he could even sense any presence.

 _What in Oblivion?_ He asked himself, seeing Lydia talking to Ulfric only fifty feet from him. _How come I can't smell them?_ Lydia noticed him, turning and running over to him before he fell over. She caught him, and lead him to a chair.

"Take it easy, kid." she told him as he sat down. "You gave us quite a scare, you've been out for a while." he looked at her questioningly. "It's the night of the new moon."

 _That sure as fuck explains a lot._ He sighed, staring at his newly opening wounds. _Poison must've worked better than I thought. It mutated in my blood, slowing my healing ability to the point where my cuts just stopped healing. Now it's the new moon. My Lycanthropic powers are dormant for the next two days._

"So I guess that means I'm normal today…" he grinned, taking in a deep breath. "You have no idea how good this feels." she gave him a quizzical look. This was the only time he never felt the urge to outright kill someone. He felt human. Slowly, and shakily, he rose to his feet, and moved for the door. She grabbed his wrist.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked him with a rather irritated tone. He winced slightly at the strain on his muscles, but tugged free.

"I get one day like this, very fucking rarely," he replied, continuing to the door with glee. "I'm gonna enjoy it as much as I can." he stopped as his hand touched the metal doors. He suddenly remembered. "What happened to Shrix?" Lydia's face fell.

"She's alive."

"Where is she?" he asked, his hand firmly on the giant hunk of metal. Lydia sighed, letting him know she was not being taken care of in the palace. He threw the doors open, and hobbled through the cold mid-day streets, limping down to the temple. He opened the doors, and could see many people laying on stone with priests and priestesses healing them with brews and magic. A man approached him.

"May I help you, sir?" he asked Darkus. "You look as though you need some healing yourself…"

"I'm fine!" Darkus snapped, walking aimlessly through the stone walls. He looked for any sign of Shrix's exotic hair color. "Shrix!" he called, scanning the dimly lit room. The priest grabbed his shoulder. "Get off, I'm not staying in here." he looked again, scanning the outlines of people with his less-accurate eyes. He finally fell on her dark auburn hair. "There you are…" he shook Shrix, trying to get a response from her.

"Ow ow ow ow ow!" she exclaimed, holding her sides. "Divines, Darkus! That really fuckin hurts!" she rolled over, revealing bloody bandages at her sides.

"Fuck, Aventus got you," He sighed. She nodded, swinging her arm around his neck as he picked her up. He winced and coughed, but ignored it. "At least I got the worst of it for you." she chuckled lightly, but looked at his bloodied bandages with a quirked eyebrow. He made sure she was as comfortable as possible.

"Why are you wincing? What's wrong Darkus?" she asked as the pair exited the building.

"Fucker got me in the back with a knife," he said, continuing through the streets, back to the palace. "I'm fine." Shrix didn't say anything until they were at the doors, listening to each and every grunt and wince of pain echo from his throat.

"Why haven't you healed yet?" she asked eyeing the white bandages as they slowly turned red. Darkus didn't answer, so Shrix punched him in the kidney, coughing from the exertion of her own unhealed body.

"Geez, it's not as simple as healing," he replied, stumbling a little bit. "After I transform into my werewolf form, my immense healing powers are pushed to the maximum to keep me alive. They slowly die off after a few days of me returning back to normal, until they cease entirely. Usually around the time of a new moon. Like today." she eyed him with understanding. "Today, I am fully, absolutely, human. I don't have the dark unnatural urges of the beast within."

"You can't feel the presence of your wolf spirit at all?"

"No, I can still feel him deep down, but it's like he's finally sleeping," he grinned, entering the palace. "I can have fun, the way I want to today. I won't be hindered by feral instinct." she gave him a grim look.

"... but you also are unable to regenerate naturally…" she muttered, the blood now soaking his bandages. He winced slightly as she touched them. Aretino had gotten him worse than he'd thought. Definitely worse than he was letting on.

"Yes."

"Darkus?" Lydia asked from her chair, rising from the table and hurrying over to him. "You ran out of here to go find her?!" Darkus nodded, his body giving in to the pain plaguing every muscle in his body. He stumbled against the table, Lydia barely catching Shrix from his arms in time. "Divines, you're insane! You know better than to run around in your condition!" Darkus could feel himself passing out, but forced himself to stay awake through sheer willpower.

"Make sure she gets the best healers and medicines in the city." he ordered the housecarl, falling onto the ground. "She was hurt a lot worse than I was." he was going to pass out again, but he wanted to hold off as long as he could. He wanted to feel fully, for as long as he could, with no emotional suppression.

* * *

"Lydia!" Ulfric Stormcloak's heavy voice boomed through the hall. "What has happened?" Lydia turned to the Jarl of Windhelm and sighed.

"He passed out before I could tell him of your request," she replied, motioning for several guards to help her. "Take these two to a room for rest, and heal them appropriately." The guards nodded, as Lydia turned back to Ulfric. "I doubt he'll be awake again today." Ulfric nodded.

"Alright," his face then turned very grim. "We have another, very large problem at hand." Lydia quirked an eyebrow. "Aldmeri forces have gained access to our seas, my scouts report a small army, just outside of Windhelm Hold." he took up an old, rusted axe, and tossed it to Lydia. She recognized it. It was Ulfric's axe from two decades ago, the one he had entrusted to her Thane. "They mean to strike us hard, take a foothold in Skyrim." Lydia placed the axe down on the table.

"Do you know who they are after?" she asked, touching the light scar that traced her left brow. Ulfric nodded, but scratched his chin.

"They want the Wolf of the North, from what my scouts have gathered, but that is impossible," Ulfric replied, handing her the official report. "The Wolf is a recluse, an old man living far to the west. There are no werewolves in this city, aside from Darkus that is." Lydia nodded. She knew that something wasn't right.

* * *

Cirius sat at his desk, reading through the documents that were sent to him that morning. The young elf was in no mood to interview a nordic prisoner, especially one so expert with magic and poison, but he was in no position to refuse. His officer, a mer in pursuit of the Wolf of the North, believed that this man had vital information on said target. He gave the papers one final look over, taking note of all injuries, and then sighed, making his way to the ship's dungeon.

"Ah, hello little man," the nord croaked in a light whisper. "My, you're quite the young one. I'd wager you're a little younger than I, which would mean you're still an adolescent, correct?"

"Enough, fool. I ask the questions." Cirius interrupted, the man's grin not fading in the slightest. "Are you ready?" the man nodded. "How do we find the Wolf?" the man gave a long thought, then chuckled madly.

"Of course, of course! You're here to kill him!" he cackled, practically dancing. "First, you need to think like him, know who he is. His behaviour." Cirius felt sick with himself just thinking about the conversation he was having. The man was a psychopath. A lunatic. The conversation was one on how to stalk and kill prey. The man seemed to read this in Cirius' eyes. "Exactly, young one." Cirius attempted to hide this from the man. "Do not be scared, that is exactly what it is." he cocked his head to the dead man across from him in the cell. "You have to know your prey before you can kill it."

"Very insightful." Cirius said, his throat dry. "Tell me, do you know the Identity of the Wolf?" at this, the man's grin widened further. He nodded.

"Yes." he hissed like a snake. "I hunted him before. As you can see, I lost painfully." the man's eyes were filled with a longing, a need for more bloodshed. "I want to fight him again. He can exist without me, and vise versa, however, we both still remain." he moved closer to the locked door. "One of us needs to die. To me, it's that simple, almost like a game."

"Game?"

"Yes, yes, yes!" he cheered. "You get it now? It's like a game of Wolf and Dog!" he chuckled, summoning an orb of light in his palm. "The predator catches its prey! However, when backed into a corner, the prey can easily become the predator! You must be careful!" he laughed. "And I bet you want to know his name?"

"Yes, Aretino. Tell me."

"Too bad! You're not worthy!" he laughed, healing himself with the glowing orb. "I want another shot at him, to kill him with my bare hands!" his wounds sealed very quickly, becoming null. "I want weapons, poisons, and armor. In return, a message will arrive with his name should I fail, or succeed with killing the man." Cirius couldn't believe what he was hearing, and decided to leave, inform his superiors of his findings.

He walked to the top cabin of the massive flagship, where slaves and other soldiers were rigorously working. He knocked on the captain's door twice, and waited.

"Enter!" he heard from within. He opened the doors, and slipped into the dark room. The captain wasn't sitting at her desk, so Cirius waited. And waited.

"Captain-?" he called, looking around. "I have important news, I can come back later, I suppose." the door at the very back flew open, and in walked his captain, dressed only in a white blouse, which was undone. He immediately averted his gaze to the ceiling.

"What did you find out?" she asked, sitting in her chair. Something he surely would never sit in, nor touch ever again. He gulped. "Speak! And look me in the eyes when you do!" he nodded, meeting her gaze nervously.

"Aretino knows who the Wolf is, ma'am." he reported, swallowing though his throat was dry. "He wants to make a deal with us." at this the captain stood up. "He wants to kill the Wolf himself, with the assistance of our weaponry and alchemy, and in return, should he succeed or fail, he will reveal the Wolf's identity." the Captain smirked at this.

"A nordic man playing games with the Altmer? How fun." she chuckled. "Tell him I will allow it on one condition;"

"Ma'am?"

"He will become a servant of the Dominion, a spy and assassin." she said, writing it down as she spoke, and handing Cirius the paper once finished. "Now, you deserve to be rewarded." the Altmer Captain brushed back her long bronze hair.

"Captain Ullis?" Cirius asked as his officer grabbed his chin with her thumb and finger.

"Go, young one." she ordered, with a light grin. "I will have need of you in the future." Cirius nodded, barely escaping the situation that could've led to his death.

He walked back down to Aretino's cell, and sat there, watching the man rip apart the newest prisoner. A traitor that was transferred into their dungeon.

"It seems we've come to an agreement?" the man asked, taking the letter from Cirius. His grin widened. "I can live under these terms."

"Very well, you may begin today." Cirius told him, turning to leave. "I'd better not regret this."

* * *

Darkus opened his eyes again, hopefully the second time that day, and not a few days later. He still wanted the day of the new moon. He felt better at least, that was a good change. He slowly rose from his bed, and covered his eyes. They were sore as the Void. He blinked a few times, clearing his vision and adjusting to the light of the room. It was glowing from magelights, and restoration magic. He was instantly met by Shrix's bright blue eyes.

She was hovering over him, watching the priestesses work on him. She was completely ignoring the healers around her. He patted her head, and stood up on his own.

"Sir, you should sit down!" a priestess pleaded, tugging at his arms. Darkus pulled free, and moved towards the table, where his shirt and boots were. Even Shrix was pulling at him to try and get him back on the bed. He pulled on his boots, and walked out of the room.

"Darkus, you really should listen to her!" Shrix barked, following him through the halls.

"I'll be fine," he replied, stretching out his arms. "We might as well hurry up, and go. Why waste a perfectly good day, right?" she cocked a brow.

"Huh?!"

"Come on, let's go get you some more equipment." he sighed, fishing for his coin purse. "Your shit was torn up pretty badly, you're actually wearing one of Lydia's shirts right now." Shrix pulled on the chest of her clothing.

"Huh. That does explain why it's so tight in the chest…"

"Why what's so tight in the chest?" Lydia asked as the two passed her. Shrix's back straightened immediately.

"Uh… nothing, nevermind." she averted. She pointed back at Darkus. "We're just gonna go shopping for some new stuff…" Lydia nodded.

"That would be for the best." Lydia said, leaning back up against the walls of the palace. "The others will be arriving later today anyways, so make sure you're back at the gates later on today. And be careful. The Dominion has infiltrated the Hold." Darkus gulped. He was more vulnerable than ever, and now the Dominion was there. He was having just a peachy day, now wasn't he?

"Yeah," was his reply before he and Shrix set off.

It was very bright outside, suggesting that it was the middle of the day. Darkus sighed, walking through the filled streets with Shrix, stopping at a shop or two along the way to browse. Shrix decided that she only really wanted a new shirt and some pants, and that a flowing dress or outfit wasn't her style. Darkus was good with that, though didn't know how to go about finding men's clothing that would actually fit her the way she wanted.

Darkus finally decided that she'd need custom made, and personal-fit clothes. The shirts and pants that would fit her would be too large and ridiculous looking, and the ones that wouldn't be ridiculous wouldn't fit due to her body type and shape. He sighed, and brought her to a small building in the middle of the shopping district, as he liked to call it.

"What is this place?" she asked, looking around. "It's not a regular clothing store…"

"No, it isn't," he replied, taking out his money. "It's a custom clothing store, the guy in here will take your measurements, and make you your clothes accordingly." he saw the look of disbelief on her face. "Look, you're a woman who wears men's clothing. I'm only slightly larger than you are, as we've already established, but I'm also much taller than you." she pouted. "If you tried to pull on one of my shirts, you'd have to squeeze into it, because men don't usually have breasts."

"Shut up, I get it!" she barked, covering her ears.

 _Huh, she does get really flustered when you take a direct interest, or even talk about her body. In a way, she finally gets how I feel around people in general._

An elder Dunmer male walked into the room, and chuckled.

"Ah, Darkus!" he chimed, his voice low and Morrowind in accent. "Haven't seen you in a long time, my boy. Last time you were here, Lydia was the one buying clothes." he looked over Shrix. "It seems you have a new friend." Shrix's face went a red color. "Now, what is it you need, my boy?" Darkus plopped the sack of coin on the counter.

"I want you to make her a couple sets of clothes, any color she wishes, alright?" he asked, waiting for the old mer's response. He nodded.

"I will try, but women typically wear dresses, and corsets," he sighed, pointing out that the store was, indeed, not for women. "Everything in here are typically for men, the only women I have ever had in here were, Lydia and your mother-" he caught himself too late, and coughed. "-er, I mean, um," the damage had already been done.

 _Gods dammit, the one day I can feel emotion without any suppression._

He let out a pained sigh, and proceeded to sit down at a table.

"I'll wait in here, you two go in back and do whatever it is that you do," he said, laying back in the wooden chair, his feet upon the table. The dunmer nodded, motioning for Shrix to follow him to the back. After about two and a half hours, the pair returned, Shrix holding three sets of clothes in her hands. Darkus was fine with it. He paid the five hundred it cost, and bade the mer and his shop farewell, stuffing Shrix's clothes into a bag, and walking through the streets with it. The pair walked for about a half hour, before Shrix finally decided to speak.

"What is it about your parents that gets you angry?" She asked him curiously. Darkus just sighed.

"It's nothing worth talking about." he replied bitterly. "I know less about them than I should, is all." Shrix gave him a skeptical look. He sighed, coming to a full stop, and turning to a bench off to his left. Shrix sat down when she saw him take a seat. "My parents left me with Lydia. I'm grateful for it, I thank them for it actually."

"So why does the mere mention of them bother you so much?" she asked him, giving him a look that said _"You're a hypocrite"_. "I mean, from what I know you both hate and love your family." Darkus made a noise that sounded like a groan.

"It isn't like that," he began, leaning back against the wall. "I mean, I could start with my grandparents, but two sets of them, one set of which predating my birth by a couple millennia, is difficult enough when it isn't speculation." she gave him a look that told him he'd better hurry up, or she'd have to beat answers out of something. "Alright, where do you want me to start?" Shrix thought about it for a few seconds.

"Start from the very beginning." was her answer.

 _Of course._

"My mother was born around the same time as Tiber Septim," Darkus started, scratching his head as if he were annoyed. "Whether she was his friend, enemy, or what, I never found out- how could I, it's been about a thousand years- this, of course, has little to do with my grandparents." he shifted, trying to remember exactly what he had found out. "Both of them were pure-blooded vampires, and my mother was born the same. Time between then and now is missing, but at some point the two were killed and my mother was on her own- though by that time, she was already a fully grown adult- she traveled around the continent, concealing her true nature by masquerading as a witch."

"That sounds interesting." Shrix interrupted. "So, how old would your mom be by now? What would she look like?" Darkus looked at her for a moment, thinking about his answer. He turned, and gave Shrix a light chuckle.

"She'd be around seven hundred and twenty now, but she'd appear to be your age." he answered sincerely with a shrug. "However, her parents would be much closer to three or four thousand if they were still alive." he saw Shrix's look of awe, and laughed at it.

"What's so funny?" she blurted, snapping out of it. He waved it off.

"Nothing," he said with a small grin. "I guess I should move on to my other grandparents, huh?" Shrix shook her head. "What?"

"You might have told me before, but, do you know who you look like?" she asked. Darkus nodded.

"I'm the spitting image of my mother." he replied, messing with his chin. "Who, as it happens, is the spitting image of my grandmother." he sighed, knowing that his appearance was so feminine, most people have mistaken him as such upon first glance. "Now, onto my dad's family," he cleared his throat. "The only thing I know for sure, is that my dad's parents were killed when he was a baby. He was actually taken in by an Orc, my grandfather, and lived with both him, and my grandmother until he was around eight."

"Why that short of a time?"

"If you'd let me finish," he said. "The small village that they lived in were set upon by Orc bandits, they all died except for my dad, who was able to kill enough of them to hide effectively." he then got his angry look again. "From what I've gathered, my grandparents wouldn't have abandoned my parents if they could've helped it." he growled a little bit. "That's the answer to your question. Not just one, but both of my parents lost theirs. You'd think they wouldn't want to put me through that kind of thing, I'm their son." his features then softened. "Yet, at the same time, it's made me strong, gives me the power to survive. I can't be mad about it too much."

"I see." was Shrix's only response. "We should probably get moving then, huh? We still have to get me a new weapon, and meet up with the others at the main gate." Darkus nodded, standing up and beginning to walk in the direction of the main market.

* * *

Shrix followed him to an open area, where a woman was working at a forge with some metal. The woman was in her late thirties, and sitting next to her was a young girl with the same brown hair. The two seemed to be having a heated conversation.

"It wasn't your fault your sister left." the woman barked to the young girl. "She chose to leave with that scoundrel, and what happened? She was horribly beaten, and nearly died!" the young girl was crying, the pair soon realized.

"But why won't you do anything about it?! Don't you care about us at all?!" she whined, clearly sending her mother over the edge in anger.

"I couldn't do anything about it even if I wanted to!" she retorted, slamming a hammer against the hard steel. "I have no skill with a blade, no money to hire a bounty hunter, and no idea where to even begin looking for the bastards that did it!" Darkus narrowed his eyes, and grinned.

"Looks like I've found you a contract, Shrix." he joked, approaching the pair without a care in the world. "Excuse me Hermir." the woman turned around, swinging the red-hot hammer as she went, something that Darkus easily ducked. "That wasn't very nice." he muttered.

"Oh, it's just you, brat," Hermir said with a small grin. "What can I do for you today, kid?"

"It's actually Thane-brat now, thank you," he replied in equal humor. "And I was just dropping in to see if you had any spare weapons. Maybe ebony, or malachite?" Hermir made the 'tch' sound.

"It's a time of war, kid, the second one I've seen in my lifetime, of course I have weapons." she stated, as if it were obvious. "What are you looking for?" Darkus turned to Shrix.

"Er, dagger." she answered, without a second thought. "I usually use a crossbow, but I'm adept with a dagger as well," she began to mess up the back of her hair. "As both were destroyed when the inn went up in flames, I would need both, but…"

"Don't worry about it." was all he said.

"Alright, I've got what you need." Hermir grinned. "Ebony is the only crossbow I have in stock, and I assume you want the dagger made of the same metal?" Darkus nodded. "Alright, now how do you propose to pay me?" Darkus pulled out a small pouch of coin.

"Four hundred, plus I couldn't help but overhear what you were talking about," he began, getting the woman's attention. "We could take care of it, get a message to you when it's finished. It's a good deal, no?" Hermir thought about it, then nodded.

"Very well. I want him dead." she told the two. "His name is Ivan Welleck, the last place I knew him to be, was somewhere in Winterhold." Darkus nodded in understanding, dropping the bag of money on a nearby workbench, and holding his hands out for the two weapons. Hermir gave the two pieces of black metal to him, checking them to make sure they were top-notch and perfectly fine. He gave her a smile, and walked away, leaving the woman to work with her metal.

It was only after they'd gotten to the gates did Shrix notice where they were heading. Darkus pushed the doors open by himself, and continued down the cobblestone bridge to the stables, where a carriage, carrying the rest of Shrix's group, was pulling up. Shrix smiled, bursting forwards when she caught sight of her brother's auburn hair. She jumped straight up, catching her brother's hand in a high-five, and landed next to the giant. He gave her a broad grin, something he rarely did for anyone, save Zassa, and patted her head.

"That ride was a pain in the ass." he said, reverting back to his straight face. Shrix could tell he was seeing the bandages she had covering her body. "What happened to you?" Her annoyed and sour face came back as she answered him.

"Some asshole kidnapped me a while ago, and Darkus killed him." she said, getting a strange and foreign look from Caro. "I was drunk out of my mind, I mean me and Darkus- er, nevermind- but I was barely able to understand what was going on." his eyes narrowed. "So I drank a little too much, so what?"

"You need to stay alert at _all_ times," he scorned. "This is what happens when you try to outdrink a woman who's had nearly thirty years more experience than you." Zassa was the next to pipe up, her voice more than less resembling a large housecat.

"Yeah, even Riaz knows not to drink that much!" she laughed with crossed arms.

"I'm pretty sure Riaz was drunk, actually." Darkus interrupted, looking for the two that were still missing. "Where are Vale and Vala?" he looked in the cart, and sure enough, the latter was trying to pick up the Vampire, who was napping on the floor. "You've gotta be kidding me."

"Nope, she's not kidding." Vala strained, grunting as Vale's body was barely phased by the effort. "Stupid. Vampire. Sleeping habits!" Darkus stood there watching the pitiful excuse for manual work.

"You're almost useless without your Werewolf power, huh?" He asked, disappointment in his voice. She turned to him with an angry expression, something that Shrix actually found kind of amusing.

"You try to move her, then." she ordered. Darkus shrugged, climbed up into the cart, and picked Vale up with a single arm. The look on Vala's face was priceless. "Wha-?! How?!"

"Because, unlike you, my strength only partially comes from my Lycanthropy, not fully. It isn't something I can rely on, so I have to be prepared." He replied, slumping the Vampire woman over Vala's shoulder without warning. The smaller of the two nearly fell over, but managed to stay upright. "Besides, it's important to be physically fit enough to trump most foes without using your full power. If you were attacked right now, by a group of bandits, and none of us were there to help you, do you think you could kill them all? Could you escape from them?"

"I bet you I could!" she retorted.

"Prove it!" he barked back, trying to entice a fight from her. Shrix decided to interject, before Darkus killed the currently weakened Vala. From how easily he was able to push open the massive front gates, there was no doubt in Shrix's mind that a single punch from Darkus, without his Lycanthropic powers, was equivalent to smashing someone's head with a wooden club.

"As interesting as that fight would be- over in about two seconds- I don't want to scrape bits and pieces of my friend off the road." she said, bringing the others into the conversation. "Trust me, I just got you guys back, I don't want to lose you over something stupid." Caro's eyebrows raised in intrigue.

"Is he that good?" he asked with interest. Shrix nodded.

"He forced himself through a mid-level paralysis spell, on sheer willpower to save my life, so yes." she said to her brother. "Speaking of killing, and such, I just got a new contract." Caro gave her a surprised look.

"Who told you?! Have you become-!?"

"No, I haven't become a Listener," Shrix interrupted. "Apparently, Darkus knows the Blacksmith here, and she wanted someone dead, so, as payment for these weapons, I took the job." she scratched her head, and sighed. "Thing is, she doesn't know where he is. Last time she heard of him, he was in Winterhold somewhere." Caro seemed pleased by it.

"Ah, to get back to work again would be nice!" Zassa chimed from beside Shrix's brother. "What kind of job are we looking at here? Magic user? Bandit leader?" Shrix hated when Zassa did that. Asked questions she had no way of answering. "What? I wanna know if it's a solo job, or if some of us can tag along!" Shrix slumped.

"Find your own jobs, or get information on the guy I'm after," Shrix whined, giving the much shorter Khajiit an irritated look. Zassa pouted, or whatever passed as pouting for a Khajiit woman. "Let's go inside the city, it's not quite as safe here as you think- the Dominion is on the doorstep." this put a damper on the high spirits of the little group of killers, as they made their way slowly back through the gates, and back to the palace of kings.

Lydia and Riaz were already expecting them, it appeared, both waiting at the doors to enter with them. The guards were the ones opening the doors, and Lydia was dressed in strangely high-class clothes. Shrix was getting an off feeling from it all.

"You look… Dirty." She told Darkus, staring point-blank at the bloodstains from his reopened wounds. He shot her an annoyed look. He obviously did not think she looked, well, Lydia enough in the clothes she was wearing. "Try and keep them out of sight as much as possible while in the presence of the Jarl."

"I will as long as you don't go off at him again." he murmured.

"Just make yourselves presentable, okay? That is all I am asking." she finally told them, walking in a straight line towards the throned man. Judging by the way the Jarl was sitting, the situation Shrix and the others found themselves in was either really good, or really bad. It was hard to tell with the blank expression he wore. His natural look was melancholy, it seemed.

"We have a problem." he spoke, his voice heavy and demanding respect. Shrix figured as much, but wondered what the problem was. The Dominion was practically their neighbor at that point, what could be worse? "Aventus Aretino wasn't the man who killed all those women. It was an imposter, a wizard using dark magic." Darkus looked slightly more irritated by this news than normal. "As we have discovered, Aventus Aretino has been dead for several years. The man posing as him is an unknown target, perhaps a Vampire," Darkus seemed to growl. It was only a few hours past midday, but already he was appearing more and more _feral_.

"The bastard is alive." he spat, turning quickly and beginning to walk away. "Damn it!" Lydia quickly grabbed him, slapping his face hard enough to almost knock him on his ass.

"Watch your tongue!" she barked, raising her hand for a second strike. Darkus submitted, taking the full hit without flinching. She figured something like that must have happened before. "Did I not teach you discipline and respect?!" Darkus gulped, and nodded.

"Forgive my actions, Jarl Ulfric," he pleaded, taking a knee. The Jarl did not seem to care for the young man's rash actions, or apologies, instead leaving the conversation there. "I was out of line."

"No matter, there is still a very real threat at hand," the High King said. "Regardless of whether or not you join the ranks of Skyrim's army is up to you, however I ask that, should Windhelm come under attack during your stay, you aid in its defense." Darkus nodded without a second thought.

"It would be an honor, Lord," he responded, gaining a pleased nod from Lydia. "Now, I would like to-"

* * *

Darkus was cut short by the blood-curdling scream someone makes before they're killed. He turned around, along with everyone else, and ran through the doors to see a truly horrible sight. It was a large squad of Altmeric soldiers, standing over a dead man, weapons drawn, and ready to fight. Darkus instinctively reached for his sword, but drew nothing but air.

 _I left my blade in the room…_

The first enemy moved forward, swinging his weapon at an average speed, suggesting he was just a low-ranked fighter. Darkus easily maneuvered around it, just in time to get out of the way of the mace that swung towards his head. He grabbed his enemy's arm, broke it, then threw the mace at the next enemy to approach, hitting him directly in the head. He could see the others engaged in battle as well, trying to aid him.

"Get out of here!" he ordered, taking the sword of another enemy, and killing him with it. "There could be civilians that need your help!" as he watched them move on, he caught sight of archers in his peripheral vision, all aiming for the Dark Brotherhood group. He rushed over to them, in an attempt to save them from an early fate. He realized it was too late when the bowstrings loosed their arrows.

Or so he had thought. He felt two arrows pierce his body, his left leg, and his right shoulder, but had to watch as Ulfric and Lydia absorbed the blows from most of the volley. Ulfric's armor and shield left him mostly unharmed, save for the single arrow in his left arm. Lydia had managed to deflect many with her sword, however she had been hit once in the abdomen, and once in the right thigh. She was grateful for Ulfric's massive tower shield, which was able to cover them both fairly well.

"Take your chance now!" Lydia barked at him, snapping Darkus out of his temporary pause. He spun, deflecting the axe of an enemy, jumping over a wide swing of a greatsword, and finally killing a third elf wielding a broadsword.

With a clang of metal on metal, his elven weapon flew out of his hands. He had dropped it, losing focus from a sudden burst of pain in his shoulder. His right arm was completely numb; something very important had been hit. The next hit slammed into him without a chance for him to dodge, nearly dropping him to the ground. He coughed blood, his nicely sealed wounds ripping themselves fully open again. He stumbled backwards into a wall.

"Damn it," he breathed, taking a defensive stance. "Fucking bastards." there was another volley of arrows flying towards him. He rolled behind a pillar, narrowly avoiding the sweep of projectiles, and breaking the shafts of the arrows already stuck in his flesh. Ducking quickly to avoid yet another strike, Darkus spun around, slamming his fists into the elven steel helmet hard enough to dent it, and kill whoever was inside.

Catching the mace he wielded out of the air, Darkus moved forwards into the group of soldiers, swinging the small weapon with great speed, despite wielding it with his left arm. He killed another two soldiers before he knew what was happening. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ulfric was by his side, while Lydia had left him, probably because she was ordered to. It comforted him, knowing that the High King was fighting with him.

The man was slaughtering the elves, cleaving them with his massive axe. He remained almost completely untouched, almost god-like in the heat of battle, a fact that deeply scarred Darkus' Draconic pride. Even with the small amount of dragon's blood in his veins, he had the same instincts as the great reptiles.

Motivated by this, he began punching harder, moving quicker, and killing faster. He kept swinging and dodging until nothing else came at him, when he was the only one still standing besides Ulfric, his body finally relaxed. He was covered in blood, both the enemy's and his own, but was still alive.

"Lord Ulfric, we should get you inside," he rasped, using a broken greatsword as a walking assistant. "We don't know how many others are still out in the city, or even if the City Guard have been notified. Even if the guard was notified, you need to stay inside, protected by the Palace, while I go and find Lydia." Ulfric took Darkus' shoulder, supporting him in his weakened state.

"Nonsense boy, no need to shoulder all the responsibility yourself," he said, speaking in as soft a tone as he was capable on a battlefield. "You stay in the palace, protect my family should any potential harm breach these doors." Darkus managed to keep up with him, finally taking a seat at the large table, and turning back in time to see the veteran warrior run back through the heavy castle doors.

He looked around the hall, his eyes falling upon the two children of Ulfric. He exhaled slowly, closing his eyes for a moment, before standing up as well as he could. The two looked slightly shaken, but stood their ground.

"Go," Darkus told the two of them. "Get the guards and the healers, bring them back here." when the two did not listen, he growled. "Get your mother, and stay with her! Now, Bring the guard back _here!_ " the boy, Jurgen, stood tall, glaring at Darkus.

"I shall stay here and aid you, Thane Darkus," the boy said, drawing a sword from the stone chair next to the throne. "Vasi, do as he says, and go find mother." the bronze-skinned girl looked shocked by her brother's action, but nodded, running deeper into the Palace's walls.

"What's made you so noble?" Darkus asked, remembering how arrogant the young man had been the last time they met. He was a spoiled brat with no respect for anyone. That is, until Darkus threw him on his ass, and beat some sense into him. Jurgen flashed a small grin.

"It _is_ my title, after all," he replied, walking to stand at Darkus' side. "Let's hope that nothing too dangerous comes through those doors, eh?" Darkus chuckled.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that, kid-"

"I'm older than you."

"-the biggest and most dangerous ones usually signal the end of the battle," Darkus told him with a small smile. "Let's hope if someone does come through those doors, he's the strongest motherfucker with them." Jurgen gulped. "I thought you were named after Jurgen Windcaller. What's wrong? You get tired of shouting at people to do your bidding?"

"Shut up."

"There it is,"

A moment later, the sound of chainmail began approaching the main hall. The sound, along with the bodies it belonged, quickly flooded the hall, taking defensive positions in front of the heir to the throne, and the Thane of the hold. Before anything else happened, someone in plate armor walked through the doorway. Darkus realized, as did Jurgen, that it was Jurgen's mother. Darkus bowed, at least as much as he could.

"Don't. Stand tall." she ordered of him, placing the white-plate helmet over her head.

"Forgive me, my lady."

"Lilisia, Thane Lite." she said, drawing a sword from her hip. The blade glowed a deep purple. It wasn't enchanted, it was infused with Magicka, meaning that only the Lady was able to wield it to its fullest. She wore a smile when her faceplate finally covered her expression. "If the enemy wants my husband's house, and my children, they'll have to go through me personally."

"Jarl Ulfric has made me the personal protector of you and your family," Darkus said, stepping in front of the two. "I'm going to try my best to keep you alive, even if it costs my life. It is my duty as a Thane of the Hold, Lady Lilisia, Lord Jurgen."

"Don't be absurd, you can barely stand-"

"Mother, trust me when I say, nothing short of his chest ceasing to draw breath would keep him from fulfilling his duties," Jurgen said, taking a deep breath to steady himself. Darkus knew Jurgen had never seen a real battle, not even a skirmish. Now he was expecting to fight off a small scale invasion.

 _He's scared…_

* * *

Shrix slashed the throat of another armored Altmer. How many of them could there have possibly been? Apparently, a lot. There were at least fifty of them in the area that she could see, let alone what was scattered throughout the city, even without the archers that were on rooftops. There were guards falling left and right to the elven fuckers.

Caro was to her right, wielding a broadsword with excellent skill and flawless precision, and Zassa was to her left, loosing arrow after arrow, taking down individual targets without missing a single one. They were all covered in blood and gore, but it didn't matter to them at all. It was, after all, kill or be killed. Lydia had left to assist Riaz and Vale a while ago, and the men that remained standing were running low on morale with just the three assassins taking on multiple foes.

She had lost her focus, and had almost been impaled by an enemy blade. Using her quick reflexes, she deflected the sword to her right, and ran the enemy through with her small dagger, cursing to herself as she did. The next kill was just as easy for her, but it soon became difficult as the guardsmen began to die out more quickly. They were in trouble.

Then she saw something she never thought she would. Ulfric Stormcloak ripped his way through the enemy, swinging his axe in left-right motion, roaring like a cave bear. It was truly a sight to behold, how quickly he moved, and how powerful he was, inspiring the rest of the men to fight again. She watched him carve his way through the enemy line.

"Do not let these bastards take your city! Fight! Bleed! Defend your home!" Ulfric roared, continuing his assault on the elves. Shrix couldn't believe how ferocious he was in the heat of battle. It was almost terrifying to her, even in her line of work.

The elves weren't being pushed back at all, no matter how many were killed. Ulfric never wavered, and neither did any of the men that fought alongside him. It wasn't until they heard the sound of a magical explosion did they pause to look for it. As they soon realized, it was from the Palace. Ulfric, in a growl of utter rage, turned on the remaining Dominion forces, and unleashed a sound that nearly threw Shrix to the ground.

" _Fus Ro DAH!"_ he shouted, reducing the enemy to puddles of mush, before taking off in the direction of the palace. Shrix, Caro, and Zassa ran after him, following closely behind. They were met by a large force of nearly thirty more soldiers, and the sight of the Palace doors blown to bits. Ulfric's look of fury only greatened, as he charged forwards, ripping through the enemies again with the guards and the Dark Brotherhood members at his side. Shrix couldn't help but wonder what had befallen Darkus.

She dodged an arrow as it flew at her, but before she could figure out where in had come from, another one caught her left shoulder. She stumbled back, barely dodging a sword strike in time. Caro defended her, killing the elf without a second thought. He looked back at her with a worried expression. They were assassins, stealthy and silent, not warriors.

* * *

Darkus' vision was blurred and unsteady as he forced himself to stand. The raw power that magical blast held- nothing short of a Rune Spell could cause that- had blown part the steel doors and much of the stone, killing at least half of the guards, not to mention the rest which were all injured to some degree. There were soldiers fileing in, but not many. Only about five to twelve, but that was enough to kill the men as they made their way closer to him.

He moved forward so slowly that it seemed like an eternity had passed before he'd even taken one step. His left eye was covered by blood that was flowing from a large gash on his forehead, his breathing was slow and ragged, and hard. None of his injuries would heal today, he was on his own. He hoped that Lilisia's armor had protected her enough, and that his body had protected Jurgen. He looked back, finding the two shakily rising to their feet despite their injuries. The few soldiers that had gotten through the explosion were slowly making their way to him and the royals.

Darkus took them head on, waiting for the attack from his enemy. It came faster than he expected, a swing from a massive great sword nearly cut him in half, he barely blocked it. He was on the defense, blocking hit after hit, not able to process his enemy's attacks, moving on muscle memory and instinct alone. He killed his enemy with a blind strike, taking a deep slash with his remaining good hand. His body was about to fall over from its fatigue and injuries. He was going to die.

That single thought put the fight back in his soul, fueling his anger and spirit. He felt the next attack, a mace, slam into his left shoulder, and then a blast of fire on his right leg, and finally a sword pierce straight through his abdomen. He coughed out blood and slumped over onto the armor of his enemy.

" _Look at him!"_ the elf who'd stabbed him announced in his native tongue with a smile. _"The damn bastard thought he could stand up to my might and survive!"_ Darkus started to grind his teeth a little bit, standing straight up, noticing the look of pure horror in his enemy's eyes. He missed his reflection, not seeing the large fangs, nor silver hue of his eyes. Before the Altmer could react, Darkus thrust his left arm straight through his chest, armor and all, killing him instantly. He pulled it back, finding the entire fist engulfed in deep blue flame.

" _What in Oblivion?!"_

In a flash, a blast of fire tore through the mer remaining in the hall, burning them to death or causing them to explode. The end result was the same regardless of how it happened. Darkus finally fell over and began to pass out as a boot landed in front of him.

"Hmm, you're different. What's wrong?" a familiar voice asked him. "This simply won't do, I want you to die, but I'm going to kill you when you can at least fight back without vomiting your own blood." Darkus looked up, but it was too late. He was bleeding out, falling asleep. He couldn't see the face of his attacker. "Too bad the mage I have with me will completely obliterate this place. He's nothing compared to me, of course, but he's powerful enough to kill the entire Stormcloak Clan." Darkus tried to fight off his fatigue, desperately trying to stand. "Shh, don't yell so loudly!"

He didn't realize he had yelled at all. His arms went completely limp, and his legs refused to move at all. He could barely hear anything, and could taste his own blood. He felt himself growl, but couldn't hear it. The moment the boot disappeared, a mer in Thalmor robes became visible, charging a staff for a final blast of magic.

* * *

Lydia stabbed the Dominion mage through his back, dropping his body to the ground. His amass of Magicka dispersed in a thick and heavy wave, burning and forcing all surrounding bodies to take a few steps back. She blocked her face with her arms to keep it from hurting her too badly. Her Magicka began to surge through her body, steaming and healing the burns as much as they could. She breathed in slight exhaustion; Magicka was extremely tiring for her to use with her limited pools.

Ulfric had managed to block most of the wave with his shield, and most of the men and women who had armor or shields, or were standing far back enough, were relatively unharmed. She steadied herself, as the fighting was finally over. They'd held off the force with few civilian casualties, but not as few military deaths as they needed. She was unsurprised of the amount of dead bodies that were in the hall, almost laughing to herself.

Jurgen and a woman dressed head to toe in white plate armor ran up to Ulfric, the latter of which Lydia realized when she passed, was Lilisia. She threw her arms around Ulfric, and he caught her in a loving embrace. But Jurgen and her seemed scared, Ulfric apparently learning something from them, as his eyes widened, and he began running towards one of the bloodied bodies in the middle of the hall.

Lydia began running in the same direction, feeling a tug at her heart. She caught up with the King, and eventually passed him, stopping at the sight of a pale and seemingly dead Darkus. Her blade clanged against the stone floor as she dropped to her knees, picking up his black haired head, and resting it in her lap. She had began crying before she realized it.

"Is he-?" Ulfric asked, finally dropping his equipment and kneeling down as well.

"Father, I think he's still alive!" Jurgen called approaching from behind. Ulfric stood back up, turning on the boy. "Vasi went to find the healers a while ago! They should be here any second-!" Ulfric grabbed Jurgen's shoulders, standing him him completely straight up, and string him in the eyes.

"Go find your sister! Take that blade with you, and hurry up!" he ordered, gaining a nod from his son, who ran off into the castle very quickly. "Lilisia, where did Vasi end up?" Lilisia took off her helmet, revealing a bloodied lip, which she wiped clean immediately.

"I told her to wait downstairs until her brother went to get her, of course." she replied, looking down at Darkus. "Whether he lives, or dies, he was truly noble." Lydia's tears only flowed faster. "He defended and protected us until he could not stand any longer, and even then he tried to fight." Ulfric placed his hand gently on Lydia's shoulder.

"Darkus…" she whispered, bringing her forehead to meet his. She could faintly feel him breathing, and smiled lightly, sniffling a bit. "... You've made me proud, kid." when he stopped breathing, she nearly collapsed. Ulfric and Lilisia caught her.

"Lydia!" they called concernedly, steadying her out.

"I love you like you were my own son," she whispered into his ear, hugging his limp body close to herself.


	8. Chapter 8: The Final Morning with Darkus

**This very short chapter is a small insight on the events of the last day Darkus got to see his mom and dad. Please remember to leave a comment if you like the story, ask questions, or submit ideas of what you think might possibly happen in future chapters. I look forward to hearing from you guys!**

4E 208, 25th of Sun's Dusk.

Alkridiir opened his eyes to the grey morning. As he'd come accustomed to, his wife's pale arms were wrapped around his chest, and her face was buried in his neck. Usually, the person who was sleeping next to a Vampire would be a little scared, but not him. He was too used to it, and loved Seraphim too much to be bothered by her fangs.

She was cold, as always, being undead. That was the main reason she always snuggled up to him like that, he figured, as Sera's least favourite thing in the world was being cold. Al was the opposite of cold. He noticed her stirring when he moved by accident, and looked over to see her bright icy blue eyes flash bright crimson. Understanding what she wanted, he leaned over to catch her lips in a kiss.

"Why did you wake me so early, eh?" she asked, sitting straight up. "If you don't come up with something good, I might have to punish you." he smirked.

"Wasn't one rascal enough, Sera?" he asked her, sitting up himself. She gave him an annoyed glare.

"You're just mad because he looks like me." she sang, getting a laugh out of Al.

Upon mentioning their little boy, the doors flew open and the three year old Darkus ran into the room, closely chased by Lydia, who looked absolutely drained of energy. She slumped over, breathing heavily from the exertion of running in heavy armor. Knowing how full of life and energy Darkus was, Al couldn't blame her for nearly falling over.

"How long has he been up?" he asked his Housecarl. Lydia gave him an irritated glare.

"He's been awake for three hours!" she breathed. "I had to chase after him to make sure he didn't throw himself off a cliff, or into a wolves' den." she marched over to the small boy and picked him up, Darkus pulling on her hair with laughter. "He actually did both of those things, by the way." Al looked at the three claw marks on her cheek.

"It looks more like he got you in trouble with a bear," Sera laughed, getting out of bed to take Darkus from Lydia's arms.

"Oh, he did. And a troll, a necromancer, and, if you can believe it, a spriggan." she replied, wincing when Sera grabbed her face to closely examine the gashes. Al stood up, throwing a shirt over to Sera, while pulling his own on. "You two need to start sleeping in your clothes."

"Jealous are we Lydia?" she asked him with a small grin. "You should find a man, you're still young, plenty of fun to have." Lydia did not look amused with Sera's humor. "Fine, stay lonely, see how I care." she handed Darkus back to Lydia, and then pulled her shirt on. "Anyways, Al we need to go if we're gonna get anywhere today."

"Yeah, yeah." he sighed, strapping his broadsword to his hip. "I'm positive that we can leave it for another day, right? Can't we leave tomorrow?" Sera shook her head.

"You really wanna put this off, don't you?" she asked with a sad expression. Al nodded.

"Of course I do. I want to spend more time with him, see him grow up." he sighed, looking at his four year old son. "I want to grow old, and die like a man in a battle." he looked down. "One more day with Darkus, that's all I want." Sera nodded.

"Me too." she said truthfully. "But, we can't. We need to leave now, or never at all." Al nodded, turning back to Sera with teary eyes.

"We need to leave him with something, right?" he asked, walking into Darkus' room. "It's important that he remembers something about us, no matter how trivial." Sera nodded, and Lydia carried Darkus into his room, placing him down on his bed.

"What are you going to do?" Lydia asked, watching as Al walked in and knelt down next to his son.

"Darkus," he began placing his hand on his son's head, and smiling the same way his own father had done many years before. "You're gonna go through hard times, son. Every single day of your life will be hard on you, but you'll always know that it could be worse, okay?" Darkus nodded, not understanding much. "You're gonna get hurt, feel more pain than most people in the world, and you're gonna hate me for it. I won't blame you for it." Darkus stared at Al with an open mouth. "Don't take on the weight of the world by yourself, alright? And always listen to what Lydia tells you. It is important that you listen to your elders." Darkus looked up at Lydia and smiled. "Have… a good life, and a great adventure."

Al stood up, walking back to the door where Seraphim was waiting. Once he passed her, she took her own knee at Darkus' bedside, where she started by giving her little boy a smile. He returned the grin, making Sera feel almost as if she were looking in a mirror.

"Alright, kid," she said, kissing Darkus forehead. "Make sure you meet a nice girl and you treat her right, got that?" she started, with Darkus laughing a little at her request. "Who am I kidding? You'll be the perfect gentleman! Don't rush things with women, you got it? And don't go after any and every woman you meet. Find one, and only one girl." darkus, being four, was much too young for this talk. "You should go to bed, okay? You've been awake for too long!"

"I got up when I got up!" Darkus protested. Sera Smirked. "Don't you even think you can get me to sleep with singing! I've outgrown that!"

" _Our Hero, our Hero, claims a warrior's heart._ " Sera sang, her voice as lovely as the first day Al heard it nearly twenty years prior. " _I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonborn comes. With a Voice wielding power, of the Ancient Nord art. Believe, believe the Dragonborn comes._ " Darkus began to get drowsy, despite his efforts. " _It's an end to the evil, of all Skyrim's foes. Beware, beware, the Dragonborn comes. For the Darkness has passed, and the Legend yet grows. You'll know, you'll kno-ow the Dragonborn's come._ " She began a long twelve-note tune, varying in beautiful pitch before she took another breath. _"Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin, naal ok zin los vahriin. Wah dein, vokul, mahfaeraak ahst val! Ahrk fin norok paal graan, fod nust hon zindro zaan. Dovahkiin, fah hin, kogaan mu draal!"_

Al smiled to himself as he watched Darkus fall asleep to his mother's lovely singing voice. Seraphim stood up, walking over sullenly, Al catching her in an embrace as tears started to flow down her cheeks.

"We should go. If we don't and he wakes up, we'll never hear the end of it." he said, taking her downstairs into the armory and getting them both outfitted in their normal armor and attire. Sera's light armor, and his medium weight armor.

The two waved goodbye to Lydia when they left Lakeview, seeing the sadness on the Housecarl's face. Lydia truly cared for Al and Sera. Al knew one day she'd come to care about Darkus even more.

"She'll love him like a son, won't she?" he asked Sera when the sun started to go down. Sera smiled sadly, and nodded. "Is that a bad thing?"

"No, it's the greatest thing we can hope for," Sera replied, her gaze on the road. "My boy's going to forget about me…"

"Never." Al assured, taking her into his arms. "He's always going to remember those fucked up experiments of yours." that wouldn't comfort her much, but it was the best he had. "The next time you see him, you're going to be so proud of him, I'm sure of it." Sera chuckled lightly.

"Are we ever going to see him again?"

"We will. For tonight, let's just try our hardest to smile, and laugh-" the snapping of a branch put him on high alert. He smelled around them, finding the scents of a dozen men and women. "Looks like we have company." Sera smiled.

"I was thinking more along the lines of food." she laughed. Al gave her a crazy grin, kissing her lips a moment before he disappeared. Sounds of screaming reached her ears, soothing her bloodlust, and making her want to join in. They weren't worth it. They didn't even make Al use his Werewolf strength. She instead walked to a flat place in the forest, and set up the tent and fire, awaiting Al's return.

He came back after an hour, carrying what looked like a mountain of corpses. She smiled at the large amount of blood she could smell from them. Al raised an eyebrow.

"It really turns you on when I do this, doesn't it?" he asked, getting a light slap from Sera.

"Shut up, kid." she said, tapping his forehead lightly. "It doesn't matter how right you are, after that little stunt, you're not getting _any_ of this." Al looked slightly disappointed, but shrugged after a moment. He leaned in. Even though she said that, all it would take was a kiss and she'd melt. By now, Al had figured out that any show of his raw, unbridled, power was enough to get her in a good mood.

"Nah," he grinned, pulling away from his now crimson-eyed lover. "I know everything there is to know about you," he laughed pulling her head to his neck. "And I know that you love my blood." Sera smiled, her cheeks flushing purple-red. She couldn't deny it, he tasted the best.

"Ha ha ha," she mocked, rolling her eyes. Al's expression quirked. She knew that he knew every single thing that he could do to make her happy. But she knew he wouldn't do it. He wasn't in the mood that day, too much emotional shit had happened.

"You're the most beautiful woman I have ever met," he whispered in her ear, kissing her neck. _Or maybe he would?_ He slipped his hand behind her back to hold her as close as possible.

"You trying to tease me?" she asked. "Please, I'm over seven hundred years old."

"And I'm twenty eight. I know I'm not your first partner, but I know I'm the first _real_ partner." he grinned, pushing her onto the bedroll. "I know I'm also the best partner." she smiled at him.

"I love you, Darkhrim Hrik," she said, using his Orc name. He loved it when she called him by that name. It was his favourite.

"I love you too, Seraphim Lite," he told her, before kissing her once again.

 _The two woke up the next morning, got dressed, and continued on their journey, disappearing when the time was right. They passed on, but never truly died. Seraphim and Alkridiir watched over Darkus with all the love of a parent, and then some. Even though they couldn't see him, or touch him, or talk to him, they knew everything there was to know about him._


	9. Chapter 9: Yngol's Field

**thanks for all the support. if you want to leave a comment on your thoughts of the story thus far, please do not hesitate to do so. This chapter marks an important turn in Darkus' life and psyche, it gets depressing a little bit in this chapter.**

 **Yngol's Field is the open snowy area just east of Windhelm. I've rescaled it to an appropriate size and distance so that it wasn't ten feet away from the city.**

* * *

Darkus' eyes flew open. He painfully, forcefully, drew in breath, coughing and retching as he rolled out of the bed, and landed on the hard wooden floor. He heaved, his stomach empty, and convulsed on the floor without any control over his limbs. He choked, coughed, and clawed at his throat, attempting to suck in any air he possibly could, getting nothing but a headache.

With a sudden wave of pain wracking his body as his misplaced organs and bones moved back into their rightful places, and his ribs pulled themselves out of his lung. He gasped, finally able to breath, and coughed again, before regaining a steady breathing rate. When he opened his eyes again, he was looking at an unclear ceiling. It was when the cold wave flew over his body, he realized he was completely naked. Something he wished someone would've asked him about first, but something he couldn't change regardless.

He shakily stood up, pulling on the supports of the bed to pull himself to his feet. He leaned against the wall, having to hold his legs to keep himself standing. He strained his blurry eyesight, trying to make out the figure standing in what he assumed was the doorway. He felt sick again, wanted to just fall onto the ground and pass out, but forced himself to remain against the wall.

His hearing was shot, he soon realized, as the figure in the doorway seemed to scream something that to him just sounded like suppressed drum beats as it quickly moved towards him. The footsteps that he should have been annoyed about, the footsteps that should have made him feel at ease, sounded like absolutely nothing.

Feeling someone's arms wrap around him immediately made him lose all regained feeling in his legs. His body went limp in the individual's strong and muscular arms. He smiled, and hugged the figure back.

 _Hey Lydia,_ he thought to himself. _It's been a little touch and go, hasn't it? I was out for a long time it seems._

She seemed to be asking him something. It could've been important, but he would not know. His ears refused to hear her voice. He could at least tell her what was wrong.

"Lydia," he began, unable to hear his own voice, not knowing what it sounded like. "I can't hear anything. I don't know what I'm saying, if you can even understand me, but I don't know what you're saying." he felt her shudder, then pat the top of his head.

He couldn't hear. He couldn't smell. At least he could still feel and see decently. His vision cleared up after another two minutes, Lydia getting him dressed, and leading him down a flight of stairs, and into a cold hall, where she finally sat him on a bench. His hearing was horrifyingly bad. Even after a half hour, he could only hear a louder version of the drums, and his smell was not much better. Even his vision was still nearsighted and blurry.

A tap on his shoulder got him to turn to face Riaz, who seemed to have asked him something. The cat man's eyes were quirked in such a way that suggested Darkus' previous assumption was correct. He sighed, slamming his head against the table in a moment of rage. The bench shifted a little bit, Riaz jumping back from Darkus' quick action.

* * *

Shrix gave Darkus a pitied look which she quickly hid. He was so badly hurt, he'd been unconscious for almost two weeks, and throughout that time his condition worsened. It was terribly hard on Lydia, the poor woman didn't eat for several days, and only drank alcohol, even after she'd passed out. The times hadn't gotten easier either.

Within the time that Darkus had been asleep, the Dominion had relentlessly attacked Windhelm. Ulfric was gone, standing on the front lines with several hundred men at his side. Another half an army was supposed to march through Skyrim from the Rift, from what she'd heard, meaning that the army there wasn't able to fight off the elven armies by itself. She gripped her mug tightly at this thought.

Darkus was almost obliterated, but he had been able to kill so many without armor, or even his own weapon. He was beaten to the point where his ribs and vital organs were displaced, and nearly unhealable, but he fought on until his body couldn't move anymore. From what she'd been told, he shielded the Jarl's family from the blast of a high-level Rune Spell. He suffered much more injury than any normal man could have endured.

"Hey Riaz, he still can't hear you," she told the Khajiit, taking a small drink from her mug.

"Tch, Riaz knows that." he replied, going back to his own drink. "Riaz wanted to see if he were healed yet, is all." Zassa, who sat next to him with Caro, patted her brother's head.

"Very thoughtful, brother." she said affectionately, giving him what passed as a Khajiit smile. Riaz returned the gesture, and looked back at the table.

Caro's gaze was softened and pained. He and Riaz had always been best friends, no matter what the situation or problem, the two had stuck together their entire lives. Even when Caro fell for Zassa, the two boys kept the same relationship as before. The only difference was the amount of time the two spent hanging around each other.

The two themselves had suffered injury during the second attack on Windhelm. Riaz took an arrow to protect both of them during the fight, and Caro had become upset because he thought Riaz almost died from the shot. He was lucky, the arrow missed his lungs by the hair on his skin.

Shrix herself had been burned a little by fire, and her only other injury was a laceration on her hip, which had healed very well. She was perfectly fine by that point in time physically, but the harm that befell Darkus made her angry. She didn't like how far he went for the sake of people he barely knew. It wasn't fair, she felt.

Vasi was the last person Shrix thought she'd see. The girl wasn't generally social, and kept to herself. She was very distressed over Darkus' condition, from the moment she was found and saw him half dead in the main hall. She was staring at the spot where his body originally was, before they moved him to the room. The poor girl wasn't a fighter. She was, in fact, very woman-like, and noble. The mere sight of blood made her sick, she was small, and too weak to properly kill a man.

She looked to Lydia, who was, for lack of a better phrasing, a wreck of a woman. She almost seemed broken. Lydia couldn't help but drink in her situation, she looked at Darkus with such pain. She almost seemed to cry at this, something Shrix _knew_ Darkus had figured out. The way he looked when he noticed her expression was something she'd never seen before. He looked enraged, but his features suggested he was remorseful.

"Shrix, come with me." Darkus ordered from his chair in an even tone. "I need you to guide me through the city; be my ears, etcetera." Shrix was surprised by his request. "I can't hear or smell anything, and my vision is too blurry, I need you to stand with me at all times, okay?" She nodded, noticing his lack of smile.

"Yeah, I'll be right there." she told him, standing up to follow him through the door. She looked at his bandages and felt a lump form in her throat. "Damn, you were hurt badly." he looked down at her. "What?"

"You seem shaky. What's wrong?" he asked her, probably unknowingly. She gave him a quizzical look. "Is your leg alright?" Shrix nodded, wondering how he'd known. "I can smell your blood, oddly enough. That's the only thing I can smell right now." he laughed, something that deeply unsettled Shrix, as it didn't sound like him at all. "I don't know if I'm speaking normally or not; everything just sounds like a low drum."

"Well, you _did_ survive an explosion…" she sighed, yanking on his arm to pull him away from a possible fall down a flight of stone stairs. He looked back at them with a slightly irritated look, before shrugging it off. He winced a little bit, hinting that his body was still in the process of healing. She couldn't help but wonder why his heightened senses of smell, hearing, and vision were considerably lessened or almost non-existent.

"Hey, can you bring me someplace to eat, or something?" he asked, looking around with squinted eyes. "I haven't had a good meal for- well, for however long I was asleep. I don't count that stuff at the main hall table Lydia had me eat." Shrix gave him a sympathetic look.

"Okay, let's get you some meat. Those leeks didn't look too good." she said, steering him in the direction of the New Genesis Corner Club. It wasn't exactly a good place to get a meal, but it would be good enough. She'd been in enough places like it to know.

"'Eh there, Lord," they were greeted by a Dark Elf. "Come on in, have a drink, I can get you some food if you like." it was clear he was only addressing Darkus, and Shrix wasn't being taken into account. "What can I do for you?"

"He can't hear you, old mer," she told him with a hint of irritation in her voice. "I am in charge of him at the moment."

"I see, very well." the mer bowed. "What will it be, lass?" Shrix felt her eye twitch a little.

"I will have a bottle, and he'll have a large piece of venison." she replied sitting at the nearest table. Looking around, she could see that the corner club was empty. She couldn't help but feel unsettled around him. He followed her with his eyes, and she didn't like it.

"Huh? Why are we in a corner club?" Darkus' voice came, snapping her back to his attention.

"Can you see?"

"Yeah, and I can hear a little now too," he replied, rubbing his squinted eyes. "Who was the elf?" Shrix sighed, tapping his shoulder.

"I'm over here," she told him, causing him to turn his head in the opposite direction. "He is our server, I got you some meat." he nodded.

"Yeah, I heard, just barely, when we walked in here, and saw the blurry outline of tables." he replied, resting his forehead against the table. "My head's beating like a Dragon's wings, damn it hurts." Shrix couldn't help but just stare at him.

* * *

Caro took another bite of an apple he had been eating for the last few minutes. He didn't mind it, but he definitely preferred meat to fruits. He would say it was his Argonian nature and such, but he hadn't gotten to know his father as much as he would have liked to say anything of their eating habits. The old Shadowscale wasn't around often, and when he was, his time was spent training Caro and his sister in harsh combat, not influencing his diet. He would often get carried away, almost cutting Caro's arm off at one point because of his prowess.

Caro never held resentment for him, instead acknowledging him as an obstacle, something to surpass. Caro had gotten to the point where his reptilian parent actually _smiled_ at him, in a happy and proud way, with sharp white teeth, and bright yellow eyes.

He never got the chance. His father fled the sanctuary when something, Caro could only assume, made sense to him happened. It was a secret, or a message, or something else that he had told Caro in some way, but it was nothing that Caro understood in any way. From what Caro could understand, it was a string of random phrases and words that meant nothing to him, but seemed to mean a lot to his father.

He was pulled out of his train of thought by a tug on his arm. He blinked, turning and looking down at the Khajiit next to him. Zassa must've asked him something. Usually he'd just nod and agree, but her questions had been getting more specific as of late. He decided to just ask her what she wanted.

"What?" he asked, looking her in the eyes- she had such fascinating emerald colored eyes- and taking another bite of his apple.

"Uh, nothing really…" she replied scratching her head. "Zassa was just thinking about that Contract." Caro nodded in understanding. "Winterhold is about a month from here by carriage, if we go by boat, we can be there in less than six days." Caro shrugged.

"It would be a lot more difficult to convince a local ship to take us there with what's going on with the Dominion," he told her. "Besides, the woman said that our target was _somewhere_ in Winterhold, as in the hold, not the city." the Zassa gave him an annoyed stare, and crossed her arms.

"Zassa knows this, idiot lizard." she said haughtily, turning away from him. He patted the top of her head, gaining an approving, but still angered, purr from her throat. "Stop it!" she barked, slapping at his hand. He gave her a light smile, pecking her cheek as he stood up to get ready to gather his gear.

"Let's go, then." he said to her. She literally jumped at his request, quickly following him back to their room, where their packs and supplies were relatively untouched. He began putting on his thick black and crimson Dark Brotherhood armor, with each of its various altered bits, belts, and pieces. She would've been surprised to see anyone who recognized the heavily altered leather and ringmail outfit.

She watched the him strap various daggers, throwing knives, and bolts all over his person, including a single broadsword that he strapped onto his back, from left to right. Caro was left-handed, after all. All of his weapons were ebony.

Before she realized he was done and ready to go, Caro was handing her her Ebony Longbow. She took it without thinking, strapping it on her back, as Caro draped a fur cloak over her. She had changed without him even realizing it, completely dressed head to toe in her armor.

The two didn't bother saying goodbye, making their way to the docks. The docks were filled with Argonian workers, shipmates, and others, all working on repairs or cargo. Caro looked for someone he thought he could trust, maybe an Argonian, or Nordic shipmaster.

"Wait here." he told her, walking up to an Argonian man who had his arms crossed. He turned his glowing golden gaze to Caro, squinting at the odd sight of the Half-Argonian.

"What can I do for you, Stranger?" he asked with a reptilian hiss. Caro gave him the Argonians' glare, something that only one of his kind would understand. He couldn't tell the man the truth, not when he needed to murder someone discreetly.

"My wife and I are heading up north, into Winterhold," he told the green scaled Argonian, pointing to Zassa. The Argonian gave him a skeptical look. "I'm not fully Argonian, as you can tell. My mother was Nordic, I don't get cold easy." the lizard scratched his chin.

"I see, but why travel so far north, even with Nordic blood?" the man asked him curiously. "Khajiit do not like the cold any more than us, boy." Caro wasn't one to break his stoic Argonian-esque features.

"I have family there, as does she," Caro replied. Seeing as it wasn't going to sway the man, he decided to try something new. "We have a daughter that's living with her parents, and we would like to get back as quickly as possible. Our little girl hasn't seen us for almost a full year." Caro knew the absurdity of his proclamation. The Lizard would either spot his bluff, or not.

Caro was young, only twenty three, and wasn't planning on children at all. It wasn't his decision anyways, he felt. The decision, should it ever happen, would ultimately be up to Zassa. She was a different story. The Khajiit was already twenty five, and still hasn't done much in the way of suggestion. She was nearing the age where it was deemed no longer safe for women to have children, and on average, she was halfway through her life. Then again, Khajiit have longer lifespans than the human races, so she could still be a teenager at heart.

"Alright, I have my own ship, it's mainly a cargo vessel, but we do travel through Winterhold waters on our voyages." he finally sighed, holding out his hand for payment, and pointing to the vessel behind him. "Two hundred for the both of you, you'll be completely safe onboard."

"We only want to travel halfway," he told the Lizard, motioning for Zassa to follow him as he dropped a bag of coin in the man's palm. "We have something we need to take care of before we get there, a family matter. My mother's grave." the Lizard nodded.

"Coin is coin…"

Hours later, Caro carefully watched the crew, making sure they were genuine. One thing was for sure; they could hold off pirates, or plunder crew ships. Zassa stayed at his side, shivering from the cold the oceans of the north brought. He brought her to his chest, draping his cloak over her completely. she seemed to calm down, if only slightly.

"Thanks." she shivered, holding her own cloak tight against her body. He rested his chin atop her head, getting an affectionate, albeit annoyed purr from her.

"It's alright to be cold, it isn't a sign of weakness." he whispered to her. She made a sound in her throat, either a growl, or a signal of disapproval, and continued to shiver and shake.

"Easy for you to say, you're half Nord and stacked with muscle." she remarked, getting a chuckle from him.

"Just calm down, take a deep breath, and you'll be fine." he whispered, pulling her into an even tighter embrace. "We'll be at our destination in two days, and when we get off this boat, we can kill our target, and go back." after a little while longer, it was beginning to get dark. Caro wasn't very thrilled about sleeping above deck in the cold. The sound of footsteps approaching the two made Caro turn.

"I'll show you to where you two will be staying," a young woman told him, leading the two down into the ship, and into a small but warm and cozy room. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask." she was about to leave when she seemed to remember something. "The captain wants to also know if you've any experience on a ship?"

"I do." Caro replied truthfully. "I've sailed before, I know how to do much on a vessel such as this." the woman nodded. "If I am needed, I will help best as I can."

"Very well, sir." she said. "I shall allow you to retire for the night." she exited the room without a moment to spare. Caro wasn't a fool, and he wasn't one to be ambushed. Something about the crew rubbed him wrong.

"We'll take shifts alright? I don't trust these people." he told the Khajiit who had already begun taking off her armor and clothes. He gave her a blank stare.

"What?"

"Put your equipment back on, we don't know what these guys are capable of, nor what could happen on the waters." he replied with a sigh. "We need to stay alert tonight. If we can trust these people, then maybe tomorrow." Zassa looked a little disappointed, but sighed and nodded in contempt.

"Alright." she surrendered, laying on her back on the bed. "Tomorrow, then?" Caro shrugged, laying next to her to appear unsuspicious.

"Maybe; it depends on the crew." he replied in a low and hushed tone. "If they try anything, they die. If not, we let them live, it doesn't matter either way." Zassa nodded.

* * *

"Grk…" Darkus coughed, raising his sore head from the table. "Where in the Void-?" he began, scanning his surroundings. He could smell ale and mead, and meat. He could hear chatter, arguments, and he could see people clear as ever. He realized where he was as soon as he turned to see a group of Dark Elves around Shrix, who looked annoyed by their presence. He felt like jelly.

"Come on, lass," he heard one chuckle. "We could show you a good time, what d'you say?" Darkus decided to watch how it would end. Shrix would either kill them, or beat them up, there was no in between with her from what he'd seen.

"Not interested, elf pig!" she barked, crossing her arms without a second glance at the mer. "I wouldn't be caught dead with an old guy like you!" at the last comment, the mer dropped his shoulders and drew back, obviously drunk from how he was lightly sobbing.

"I'm only two hundred and three…" he cried quietly. Darkus walked, well, more accurately, he staggered over to the group and half-argonian.

"Did you have to make him cry, Shrix?" he asked, a strange and unfamiliar slur in his speech. She jumped when she heard his voice, rounding on him with a lightning fast punch. He took it without flinching, but her hand made popping and snapping noises on impact with his cheek.

"Ow, fuck Darkus!" she winced, rubbing her broken knuckles. "Don't do that!" he sighed, noticing a tear go down her blue-scaled cheeks. He took her hurt hand in his, and allowed his Magicka to manifest into a healing spell.

"It won't do anything immediately, so we should get back where I can concentrate on it." he told her, looking back up to see how close the two actually were. He quickly took a step back. "Come on."

"What about you?" the next drunk elf asked him.

"I don't even… I can't even…" he started, hastily pulling Shrix by her good arm through the doors, and onto the cold Windhelm streets. He shivered as the quick change from hot to cold overtook his loosely clothed body. "Fuck, it's cold out!" looking around, he noticed that it was dark. Very dark, in fact.

"Ow!" Shrix winced, reeling as Darkus unconsciously squeezed her hand. He let go quickly, turning to see her still rubbing her injured had. "Sorry we're still here. You fell asleep after you ate, and I couldn't move you on my own." he decided not to get angry about it. "Besides, I couldn't just leave you in there with a face like yours, in a building filled with drunk old guys." his shoulders dropped.

"Gee, thanks," he sighed, looking at the familiar sight of the Gray Quarter and choosing the best way back to the palace. It was out of the corner of his eye that he noticed the glint of steel. He narrowed his eyes, moving towards it slowly. He was cautious, wary of the gleam because of what happened with 'Aretino'. He rounded the corner where the gleam was, finding nothing but an empty cold alleyway.

"What are you doing?" Shrix asked him from behind. He looked down at her hurt hand, and reached out to grab it, mending her bones quickly, but not entirely. She pulled her hand back, making a sound of discomfort. "That kinda hurts." he chuckled.

"I'm resetting bones, not patting the top of your head," he explained, proceeding to do so as the two started walking back. "I thought I saw something, I don't know, maybe it was just my imagination." Shrix raised an eyebrow. "It's nothing, really, just a trick of the moons." she shrugged, handing her arm back to him so he could continue.

"Whatever you say," she said to him, looking down. "I saw it too. A gleam, from a blade of some kind." he nearly stopped in his tracks, only barely slowing his pace before resuming again within a moment. He saw her hand move over her stomach, where her scars from 'Aventus'' attack would have been.

"You're not over it either, are you?" he asked her with a small sigh.

"It's only been a couple weeks, Darkus." she replied sadly. "But yes, I'm surprised that I, a trained murderer, is still distraught by what occurred that night." she said the last bit a little eccentric.

"You were drunk, I'd have thought you barely remembered anything." he said, thinking about his next move. "You up for a little hunting trip?" she gave him a worried and skeptical look. "What?"

"A few hours ago, you could barely walk by yourself!" she basically screeched. "What the fuck makes you think we can go hunting in the middle of the night?" he took a deep breath, giving her a look that suggested she was stupid.

"I don't mean a literal hunting trip," he said with a superior tone. "I'm asking you if you want to patrol the city, look for maybe a spy, or thief or something."

"You are paranoid." she told him, not making any attempt to hide her own curiosity. "So… what are you thinking?"

"I think that the guy that nearly killed the both of us is alive, I'm not sure, I just have a gut feeling," he replied to her with a shrug. "I don't remember much of the battle, but I _know_ something happened to give me this feeling." she gulped. "Get your gear, we can meet back downstairs, outside the main doors."

"Okay, but, well…" she began as the two rounded the last corner. "My equipment- it's all in the same room as yours." Darkus jumped a little. "It's been like that the whole time, Lydia made me keep watch over you most of the time." she gave him a neutral look.

"Alright, fine. Let's get our stuff, and begin our stakeout." he surrendered, opening the door for her. The two walked up the stairs, regardless of the chatter going on at the table. When Darkus was about to reach for the door into the room, Shrix said something that made him stop dead.

"You realize that we're going to be changing in the same are, right?"she asked. A shudder ran throughout his entire body, before he pushed open the door and nodded.

"I-I'll erm," he stuttered, his voice faltering. "I'll make my peace with it." he found his armor, what was left of it, lain out for him, along with his longsword. He also saw Shrix's full armor, crossbow, and dagger. She was fully changing, he only had his chest guard and gauntlet. He let out a breath of relief.

He wasn't going to look, he knew that. He didn't like it when women looked at him, and he wasn't perverted enough to look at a woman who was changing. At least he was only changing shirts, Shrix was changing just about everything on her person. Her Dark Brotherhood armor was skin tight, something he'd have the oh so most perfect time looking at while they worked.

He pulled off his shirt, and replaced it again within a second, his armor following a moment later, along with his sword. He kept his back to her the entire time, waiting until she tapped his shoulder. He turned around, looking away when he noticed her outfit actually showed off her cleavage at the top. He supposed it _was_ skinfit armor.

"What's wrong? You ready to go?" she asked him. With a quick accidental glance, he noticed that her chest also had the deep blue scales as her cheekbones. His mind wandered into thinking about what else might have the scales…

"Yeah, let's get moving." he replied, shaking his thoughts from the image, and opening the window. "We should go through the window, avoid Lydia and everyone else." Shrix still looked confused. "What we're doing- it's personal, we have to take care of it on our own, got it?" she nodded, climbing through and jumping to the next pillar. He looked down, realizing just how high up they were. He jumped over to the ledge, catching it with his left hand, and dropping down several feet. He scaled the palace like a professional burglar or assassin, moving faster than Shrix dared to on icy roof tops. He landed on the next building over, waiting for Shrix to land next to him before he would proceed. The small thunk next to him told him she had landed safely.

"Which way?" she asked him, a new tone in her voice. One of seriousness and focus. Darkus looked around, smelling the air. He couldn't smell anything that was familiar from the night he'd transformed. Then again, he didn't remember anything peculiar or specific anyways. He motioned left with his head, continuing by rooftop with Shrix closely behind.

The icy roof tops were easy for the two to glide across, no resistance, no slipping, just running. The sound of snow and ice crunching beneath their feet, until the two had finally reached one of the walls. They looked out at numerous lights on the horizon, all indicators of the Dominion forces looming on the doorstep of the city. He couldn't think about that at the moment, as several new scents entered his nostrils, smelling particularly of magic.

"Hey, I got the scents of several people coming from near the docks." he said to her, pointing to where he suspected the people were. "I'll go check it out, you be my eyes. Watch my back." Shrix sighed, but nodded, allowing him to jump quickly down the wall, landing silently on some scaffolding as he went. He barely made a sound by the time he'd gotten close enough to hear hushed elven voices. Altmeric ones. He scanned them, seeing glinting of steel and the signature black robes of an Agent of the Thalmor.

" _We have what we need: any and all ways in and out of the city, sir."_ he heard one say to the robed mer. He nodded to his subordinate, looking to make sure he wasn't overheard.

" _What about him? The Wolf?"_

" _He fell for the bait."_ was the underling's reply. Darkus widened his eyes, turning to see that he was too late. The elves jumped him, beat him, and put him into a state of falling consciousness. Before he knew what had happened, he was on a boat, listening to the sounds of battle on the docks. Shrix was in trouble. He strained to lift his body, finding that he was bound.

" _Damn it, I should've known."_ Darkus cursed in their native language.

" _So? The beast can speak?"_ the Justiciar asked with a raised brow and look of amusement. _"I'm surprised that you can even comprehend language, feral dog."_ Darkus made a sound of irritated defiance.

" _Shut the fuck up, pretentious prick,"_ he ordered of his captor. _"I shouldn't have to remind you that me, an inferior dog, completely obliterated several hundred Dominion soldiers by myself, using magic, weapons, and sometimes my bare fists."_ he looked at the elf's angry expression. _"I've also eaten several of your precious little suck ups."_ that made the mer kick Darkus' ribs, forcing him to lose his breath and cough. He laughed at the mer, spitting on his boot. _"That all you got?"_

" _Very well,"_ the mer grinned, cracking his knuckles. _"I shall beat you to a bloody pulp."_ one of the elves looked terrified.

" _B-but sir! The commander will surely have your head if you damage him further!"_ he yelled to his officer. The officer disregarded his warning, continually beating Darkus, knocking his jaw out of place, and breaking his left arm.

After hours of this horrible treatment, Darkus felt himself get lifted and dragged into a small torture room, where he was shackled up by his wrists. His ears rang like Oblivion, and his arm felt like it was dead weight. The doors opened, and two elves began arguing in their tongue. One was male, the other female.

* * *

Cirius looked at the young human bloodied and shackled to the wall, dressed in nothing but ragged trousers. He glared at Cirius not with anger, or rage, or fear. The boy's icy gaze was paralysing, how neutral and demanding it was. Demanding of respect.

" _So you're my torturer?"_ the boy asked, his voice low and empty of emotion. Only after he had looked up and his face had emerged from the shadow, that Cirius was dumbstruck by the bizarre features he held. He looked like a noblewoman, a very beautiful one.

"What magic are you using?" Cirius asked him, narrowing his eyes at the boy.

"So you do speak Common. Interesting." the boy told him.

"Answer the question!"

"I am not using any magic," the boy replied. "I was born like this, my appearance is of none of your concern." Cirius was surprised by the boy's composure, despite his beatings and condition.

"Tell me, what is your name?" Cirius asked. The boy kept quiet. Cirius took up a nine-tailed whip. "I will have to beat you." the boy remained silent and neutral, showing nothing, no emotion. Cirius hit him hard, drawing blood on the first swing. Nothing. He beat him again, and again, and again, for hours on end, with little to no breaks in between. No responses. No wincing, moaning, or groaning. Cirius teared up twice, and was on the verge of a third time after witnessing the terrible things he was doing to the boy.

"Cirius!" the captain barked from behind the door. "How fares the interrogation?" Ullis opened the door dressed in her full black robes, neatly done up and completely flawless. Cirius was stuck between two monstrous presences, each seeping Magicka. The boy's was far, far darker than Ullis'.

"Ma'am, I have beat him without rest for hours, but he will not speak…" Cirius began, lowering his head to receive his punishment and to hide his teard expression. Instead, nothing came. Instead, he was given a pat on the head. He looked up to see that the captain was sweating herself. "Captain…?"

"Stand back, Cirius." she ordered, walking up to the boy with a large knife. She infused the blade with lightning, streaks of purple quickly slicing through the air. She stabbed him in the abdomen, the blade slamming into the wall, the sound of burning flesh meeting his ears.

The boy grunted, his entire body tensing as a result of the magic in combination with the blade. Ullis withdrew the blade, finding a new point before plunging it all the way through again. Ullis continued this for almost an hour, watching as the boy's skin healed itself, leaving only scars that quickly faded. He became tired throughout the torture.

"Your name, foul dog!" Ullis barked angrily. The boy looked at her with a wild grin, and a look of superiority.

"Go fuck yourself…" he breathed, immediately earning himself another stab wound. Ullis slapped him with magic infused in her hand, causing burns to his left cheek.

She rounded, grabbing a red-hot blade sitting in the coals of a fire. She stabbed him through the chest, getting an immediate reaction. He hissed, baring his teeth, and roared, snarling at Ullis in a fit of rage. She pulled the blade free, watching as a black tattoo-like shape in the form of a bat appeared over his chest and arms. It was a double image. The bat's jagged shape, wings, and body made a grinning wolf's face. Her fingers tightened around the hilt. She pulled it out, and replaced it with another molten blade.

"Tell me your name." she ordered. The boy just glared. "Fine then. Let's see how superiorly you stare with only one eye!" without warning, she slashed downward, cutting clean through his skull. His left eye was completely obliterated. The gash stretched from his hairline, through his left eyebrow, and down to his cheekbone. He roared in pain, his eyes widening, and his muscles going into spasms. His breathing was ragged, and his bones were sticking through his skin where they were broken. His body convulsed for several minutes before he began to shake in psychotic rage.

Cirius nearly vomited at the sight of the Wolf. he was only a child, and he was being tortured. Not only that, but his officer, the demanding and composed Mer, was the one doing such horrible and terrifying things. He prayed to the gods that the poor boy would just answer her.

"You're not… getting anything… from me." the boy growled, biting at Ullis with his fangs. His eye was completely destroyed, nothing could ever heal it. His icy eyes glared at the captain with such disdain and rage. The shackles began to creak under the force he was putting on them.

"Captain-!" Cirius called to his officer. "Ma'am, we should leave him, try again tomorrow!" the captain looked like she would round on him, but then nodded, motioning for him to follow her to the top of the deck. He did what he knew he would regret not doing.

"Into my quarters, now." she said without any emotion in her voice. He nodded, walking inside and standing straight up in a slute. "Sit down, please." he looked back and slowly went into the chair. Ullis was biting her finger, an upset, more sad than angry expression on her face.

"Ma'am, may I ask what troubles you?" Cirius asked, concerned for his officer's mental health. She turned, flashing a small, pained, smile.

"The Wolf." she said, pointing outside with a tight laugh. "The terrible old hermit who devours mer by the hundreds, and slaughters men like cattle. He's only a young human boy, not even in his twenties yet." Cirius was shocked by what came next. Ullis began to cry. "He is a small child, and I mangled him almost beyond recognition." she then sat down with her head in her hands. "Gods, sometimes I feel like I make no difference, I feel like it's all for naught." Cirius wouldn't say anything, he wasn't in any position of power. "Sometimes I feel like we are in the wrong. Like the dominion is in the wrong."

"I don't understand…" Cirius said, giving her an off expression.

"It's not important, nevermind Cirius." she ordered, looking up from her table. "You go, get some rest. Tomorrow, we march on Windhelm, full force. We are taking the city."

* * *

Shrix opened her eyes, wincing in pain as she rose from her bed. She had been stabbed in the leg the night previous, thankfully Riaz and Lydia had found her before she had bled to death and killed her assaulters. Riaz and Vala were in the very room, watching her.

"You're finally awake," Vala happily announced, hugging Shrix without a second of hesitation. She moved off after several seconds. "What happened out there?" Shrix held her head, trying to remember.

"We were hunting down Dominion spies, and I was jumped." She replied, looking around the room. She was forgetting about something important. She must've hit her head.

"'We'?" Vala asked with a confused expression. "Who was with you?" it snapped in her head.

"Darkus!" she announced, getting out of her bed. "What happened to Darkus?!"

"Darkus was with you?" Riaz asked her. Shrix nodded. "He wasn't on the docks when we got there…" Shrix bolted to the door, fast as she could move. She immediately slammed into Lydia's armor when she turned left. She fell on her ass, wincing in pain as she held her injury.

"Lydia!" She yelled, looking up at the woman. "The Dominion! They took him!" Lydia nodded.

"I already know." she replied, a pained look on her face. "Someone was torturing him. I felt his Magicka surge in rage and darkness. He had a psychotic break." she winced a little bit, swallowing hard. "His killing intent… it's never been this strong before…" Shrix stood up slowly. "There's more. Scouts have found a Dominion army marching on the city. We must fight, protect the city, and save Darkus." Shrix followed Lydia as she walked through the hallways.

"Lydia, if we fight…" she started, looking at Lydia's boots. "None of us will make it. We don't have enough soldiers." Lydia nodded. "Well, what the fuck are we going to do?" Lydia walked outside.

"I'm going to call the Dragons." she said, stopping in the open ruins near what used to be Candlehearth Hall. "Odahviing! Paarthurnax!" she shouted loudly, causing Shrix's ears to ring uncontrollably. Within an hour, two great reptiles landed in the city. The guards seemed scared at first, but when Lydia waved them off, they listened.

"Punah," Odahviing bowed. Lydia had a vein popping in her temple.

"I swear to Akatosh, if you call me-!"

"It is not his fault, Lydia," A man in black announced, climbing from the ragged dragon's back. "He is a Dragon, and you should respect his choice of language."

"Alduin." Lydia grumbled, clenching her fists. "You piece of shit…" Alduin, who had the appearance of a young handsome man, waved his arms in front of him.

"Hold on, hold on!" he hollered as Lydia began her advance. "I didn't know that this would happen, I swear." That stopped her advance. "I didn't know that Darkus would get captured." she snarled, and punched him anyways. Alduin staggered back.

"If you know he's already been taken, why the fuck won't you go save him?!" she barked at him, cracking her knuckles. He stood up.

"I can't go beyond their wards. No one can, save for a mage equal to or more powerful than Dovahkiin's woman." he growled out bitterly. "You summoned us, and we came, what is your dire need?" Lydia took a deep breath, steadying herself.

"Listen up, Lizard!" she barked at Alduin. The two dragons gave Lydia an angered glare, to which Lydia rolled her eyes. "And mighty Dragons, Paarthurnax and Odahviing." the two nodded. "You are going to help me decimate the Dominion army. I hear any questions, and I will not be happy."

Hours later, Shrix stood with Vala, Riaz, and Vale on top of Windhelm's walls. The four were to be part of a stealth force with twelve others. The twelve were a mixed group from many of the races residing within Windhelm, Dark Elves, Argonians, and even a few Nords. No Altmer, outside of the already active guard and military, were permitted to protect the city with Ulfric until more armor was forged, for fear that the soldiers might confuse them with Dominion soldiers wearing baser armor.

"Listen up," a young Dunmer male said in a heavy sigh. "We are the current forces of the stealth unit, we hide in the shadows and dispatch enemies silently." he looked at Shrix, as well as many of the younger soldiers. "On the battlefield, we take to the trees, or high rocks with bows, or throwing knives, even magic if you know it." Vale eyed the man with irritation.

"Sir, what exactly are we to do?" one of the Dark Elves asked curiously. The Dunmer nodded towards the marching army.

"We follow them, hide, and take out enemies from a distance." he told her. "Scout enemy lines, if possible." the elf nodded, and the commander pointed outwards. "Now, Let's go." he covered his mouth and nose with a dark mask. The Dark Brotherhood members did the same, their masks black, followed by the rest of the unit.

The children ran at nearly a full sprint, making almost no noise even as their feet hit the ice and snow. The residents of Windhelm were not so trained. One or two Argonians maybe had a chance of comparing to Vale, but other than that, they made more noise than was acceptable. Within two hours, the unit was climbing the mountain, looking for small places to hide, or lay traps.

Shrix separated herself from the rest of the unit, moving solo. Aside from the Khajiit siblings, Shrix was the most trained in stealth, and moved quieter than even vampires. Of course, a trained dog or werewolf could still hear her, but by then they would have smelled her anyways. She climbed to a small peak, overlooking the massive skirmish between the elves and the forces of Windhelm. The Storm Riders were a force to be feared, but the elves had magics, numbers, and better armor than Ulfric's men.

She listened to the whines and battle-hardened screams of both sides, watching small fountains of blood, flashes of magic, and sparks of steel. Ulfric's men were obliterating the enemy, but because of their overwhelming numbers, each man was equal to five elves, much more than the average could kill without a break or injury of his or her own. She cocked her crossbow, aiming straight at the heavily armored berserker slashing its way through the Riders' defenses.

With a small breath, she squeezed the trigger. Her bolt flew true, lodging itself in the berserker's neck, and dropping him to the ground. Without thinking, she reloaded her crossbow, and fired again. And again. For almost a half hour, she fired true bolts, killing countless elves and other fighters of the Dominion. To her, it was no different than infiltrating a heavily guarded castle.

She heard Altmeric words to her right, freezing instantly. She turned, her eyes wide, to see a large squadron of Dominion mer, at least ten, looking at her. In a reflexive moment, she dove down, rolling barely out of the way of a lightning blast. She loosed another bolt, which struck her opponent in the shoulder. Drawing her blade, she darted forwards, slashing and stabbing her enemies without a second to think. She dodged their weapons, blocked their strikes, and killed them when the opportunity arose.

Using one as a springboard, she leapt in a backflip, her enemy taking friendly fire as a result. She stabbed the next mer, and tried to kill the one after him, but was grabbed. A sword caught her dagger, sending it into a nearby pine tree. The elf held a blade to her neck, breathing heavily from his exertion, and began speaking in a language she didn't understand. She didn't need to understand to know she was going to be killed. Judging from the looks they were giving her, and how some of the fastenings on her armor were being undone, they probably intended to rape her as well. She closed her eyes, waiting for it to end.

" _You…"_ she heard from deep inside her very being. Her eyes snapped open, looking for any source of the woman's voice. Nothing. She closed her eyes again, whimpering as the cold bit at her arms and neck. _"You are the one…"_ the same voice said. Suddenly, without warning, a painful wave of flashes and images entered her head, finally settling on a poorly lit room. There was someone there with her. She looked around, wandering closer.

" _Stay where you are."_ Darkus' voice echoed. She looked at what she had thought was a disfigured lump of flesh, and reeled when she saw a single icy blue eye in the shadows. _"Do not come near. You are an Ethereal Being at the moment, Shrix. I'm extending my thoughts to you, because no one else was with me when I was taken."_ she gulped, taking a step back.

" _What have they done to you?"_ she asked, trying to get a better look. He shook his head.

" _Torture."_ he answered. _"Reach out and take my blade. It will aid you in this battle, and I won't need it for a while anyways."_ the glowing black object hovered in front of her. She watched it float, contemplating if she should. His eye widened in alarm. _"Take it now! Trust me!"_ she nodded, coming back to reality as soon as her hand touched the weapon.

Finding Darkus' blade firmly in her grasp, she spun, killing all three of her remaining attackers. She stood up, shivering a little in the cold, and looked at her hand amazed. It was definitely the weapon Ulfric had graced the young boy. It was a lot heavier than it looked. Noticing how exposed she actually was, she took a minute to secure her armor, watching to look out for enemy soldiers. When she had finished, she decided to push closer to the enemy, kill as many as she could by surprise.

Upon gaining a new vantage point, she could see that she was nowhere near her unit. They were at least a half kilometer away from her. She fired her crossbow into any high-ranking or powerful looking enemy. Every target she fired at went down, one after another, for several hours, until the horn of her unit called her away from the battle for the day.

* * *

Lydia breathed heavily as she cut down her several hundredth enemy. She was covered in blood, sweat, and ash. Her steel armor was wearing her out faster than it had at any other point in her life. Her weapon felt light still. She had just killed another enemy, when the horn sounded for the battle to cease for the night. She walked back to the camp reluctantly, watching and lagging behind to ensure the enemy wasn't coming back.

She knelt down halfway back, eventually falling back to sit in the snow. She sighed, wiping her face with her still blood-covered hand. Her hair was frozen with sweat and blood as well, and a few cuts on her body stung horribly. Thy had been fighting for six whole days already.

"Fuck…" she muttered sadly, tears falling down her cheeks. "Fuck!" she looked up at the sound of snow crunching under boots, coming face to face with Ulfric. He held out his hand.

"On your feet." he ordered, pulling her up.

"We've been fighting for hours. Days, even." she said, using her broadsword as support. "We've gotten nowhere. We're losing men and women left and right, just so we can get a little breathing space." Ulfric patted her back, allowing her to break off to her tent after several minutes so she could walk back to her own tent.

She pulled off her armor, as much as her tired body would allow, and fell into bed. She would not fall asleep for some time. She heard the unmistakable whoosh of Dragon wings swoop by her tent, moments later, Alduin entered the tent.

"I am sorry," he told her with a heavy expression. "We cannot break the magic barrier. It is too powerful." Lydia sprang up from her bed and slapped the former Dragon. Alduin reeled, rubbing the red mark on his face. She couldn't help but begin to cry.

"Fucking bastards…" she muttered in a hoarse voice. Alduin grabbed her shoulders.

"Don't be upset, I will continue my assault on the magic barriers of your enemy." he assured, his usually deep voice mixed with emotion. It was unsettling to hear, the high and mighty god becoming more and more mortal each day. She stood there, letting him comfort her until she was tired enough to just fall asleep. She fell back onto the straw bed again, and allowing her eyes to shut. Even without being awake, or a supernatural being, she could tell Alduin had stayed throughout the night.

She got out of bed early in the morning, much earlier than she would have liked, and much earlier than the men. She looked at the man with dark hair standing to her right.

"I will try again today." he vowed again, jumping onto Odahviing's back. "I will return later tonight." Lydia took a deep breath, and headed to the battlefield.

It was another day amongst dead and decaying men and women, poor souls who never got to know if their sacrifice ever meant anything. She readied her weapon, her shield raised, as the horizon was overtaken by hundreds upon hundreds of enemy soldiers. She could hear the boots of the soldiers from every direction.

With a deep breath, she charged the enemy lines, reaching them with ferocity rivaling that of a hungry sabre tooth cat. They reeled in fear of her as she sliced through their armor, and obliterated their shields. Before any of her men had gotten to the battle, Lydia had killed almost an entire squad of people. The men and women of Windhelm slammed into the enemy once again, yet another day of war was to be fought with steel and magic.

* * *

Meanwhile, on a boat, Darkus looks up at the Thalmor woman, his only eye piercing her flesh. The mer grabbed a stool and sat down on it, her hands crossed as she looked at his scarred body and broken bones.

" _More questions?"_ he asked her without any emotion in his voice. She didn't move.

"Why did you kill my sister?" she asked him in common. His eye widened. "You destroyed a Dominion outpost. Why?" Darkus closed his eye, and looked down.

"Because she kidnapped me, threatened to kill and rape my family." he replied, pulling on the shackles. "That bitch deserved what she got for messing with a Werewolf's personal life. She was a bad person." the elf gulped and looked at him.

"I'm a terrible person too, I bet." she said with a dry throat. "Tell me; Why is it you fight against us?" Darkus pulled himself to her face.

"Because, while you are not evil, your soldiers are not evil, your actions and orders truly are." he growled out, seeing the amber flash reflected in her eyes. "You might be a good person. Cirius is a good man. He is honorable." she gave him a surprised look. "He isn't a torturer. He would actually be a very good sorcerer."

"I'm surprised you can feel like this against us." she began.

"Like you, he cried as he tortured me." Darkus told her. "You are not going to win here. You and Cirius need to run when you lose." she stood up too quickly, momentarily startled by his eye glowing for a moment. "What is your name?" the elf gulped.

"I am…" she began, unsure of her thoughts. "Captain Irena Ullis."

"Keep the last name, Ullis." he told her. "Figure out your story and run away. The Dominion doesn't take kindly to failure." Ullis nodded, and left the room, leaving Darkus to laugh. He looked to his right, seeing the glowing orb inch closer and closer from the sea. It would take some time, but he would get it eventually. Soon.

* * *

 **This was not my favorite chapter to write, but it marks the beginning of the end of the Windhelm Arc. I enjoy trying my hardest to deliver an alright story based around characters that belong to me, besides the canon Skyrim characters. I would enjoy to read any feedback you submit, thanks and until next time.**


	10. Chapter 10: A Dagger in the Dark

**This Chapter, unfortunately, took a very dark turn. It was something that had to come up in the story, though I may not have delivered it quite as well as I should have. The end of the Windhelm Arc will either be the next chapter, or the chapter after that one.**

* * *

4E 221, 21st of Sun's Height.

The world formed around her in seconds, allowing her to get up and swing the blade in her right hand. She'd been hit by a mace, her ribs crushed. Not anymore. She spun with speed unnatural to her, cutting her foe in half, spraying blood on the nearby soldiers. She was the only one left of her small group, the others had perished on their reconnaissance mission. Two at the enemy camp, slain by arrows, one shot from behind on the run, and then the last one moments before the last enemy had fallen. Or so she had thought. She heard coughing from behind her, and ran to the young Dunmer's body.

"Hang on, we can make it back to the camp." she assured the elf, picking him up to carry him. The boy gripped her shoulder and grunted in pain. "Put pressure on your wound, try to slow the bleeding." he shook his head, clearing a few strains of his hair from his eyes.

"Run." he told her, trying to get out of her grasp. "Even if we can get away from those chasing us, I will expire before we make it back." she bit the inside of her cheek.

"If you don't stop moving, yes!" she barked, as she started walking quickly in the direction of the camp. "Listen, I am not coming back alone again!" she knew she should've kept it down, if the enemy hadn't found her yet, they definitely heard her and were on their way.

"If you don't leave me here, we will both perish." he told her in a tired and light tone, but one demanding her attention. "They will blast us apart with magicks of unknown power, cut us to ribbons with blades and axes sharper than what any of us use. They will kill both of us." she sighed, but looked onward and continued pushing through the deep snow.

The snow crunched behind her, the tree branches cracked and dropped large piles of frost. As a trained assassin, she was wary, sweating even in the cold of Skyrim's nights. Her heart was beating quickly in her chest, and she could feel her arms shaking. She was a stealth fighter mainly, even if she was adept in open combat, she could only kill one or two people at a time. Her nerves were getting on her, she felt like she was being watched, stalked like prey when she should've been the predator.

In her ears she could hear whispers. Incantations, orders, or questions, she couldn't tell. She could smell the blood of elves in the air, all around her with her reptilian tongue. Her sight was terrible in the darkness of the night, her hands numbed by the cold air, but even with those facts, she could _feel_ eyes on her, and see glints of elven steel.

"We can make it." she said, looking down at his pained expression. He nodded, looking around the area. She noticed how his glowing red eyes darted in every direction, and he was shaking as well. "What's wrong?" he gulped.

"They're everywhere." he said. She wondered how he knew that. "I used a night vision spell, the one my mother taught me years ago, I can see them." she pressed on with much more haste, looking from side to side as she went. "If you leave me now, you might have a chance-"

"Not going to happen." she interrupted, looking at her hands which still held the sword. "I _have_ to get you back. Not only will it be my ass if you die and I come back alone, but it will be an extreme embarrassment for me to return alone yet again." she stopped when he touched her arm. "What is it?"

"Put me down, we have to fight." he said in a low whisper. His voice was fatigued, and his squeeze on her arm was loose and tired. She did as he said, watching him immediately fall to one knee. He held out his arm. "Don't help me up, I have to stand on my own. We can't hold each other up while fighting." he bit down hard on his arm. "I… might be able… to keep myself alive…" she gave him a quizzical look.

"How?" she asked him. The branches parted revealing many Aldmeri soldiers, all armed to the teeth, swords, bows, axes, and magic all aimed at them, ready to kill. In an instant, the Dunmer's entire body became engulfed in flame.

"My Ancestor Guardian will protect me," he strained, burning several wounds by shrinking the fire around him, a feat she'd never heard of being accomplished by any Dark Elf. The enemy made the first move, moving against them quickly. The Dunmer swung out his arms, flinging Firebolts without incanting. Yet another odd sight. The blasts seared straight through the bodies of many of the soldiers surrounding them.

"I'd hope so." she replied, deflecting an arrow to the side with her weapon. She swung in an overhead arc, eviscerating two of the armored elves at once. Magic flew through the darkness, but more than less bounced off of the flaming cloak and hit their own casters.

She continued her cautioned cutting, and fighting, but couldn't see the archers. The arrowheads clanged against her blade, but she couldn't tell from what position the arrows were loosed. She could only see so far because of the Dunmer's flame cloak. She blocked sword strikes and dodged swings from maces and axes. She cut limbs, and split skulls as best as she could muster with her inferior strength. These enemies were built strong, heavy, and bulky. She was built limber, lean, and light.

Her step was interrupted when an arrow lodged itself into her leg. She fell over, rolled behind her next attacker, and killed him with a quick strike. She was already tired, and injured, and about to keel over herself from the previous assault. She stood up again, swinging the blade upwards, cutting her enemy with a killing blow.

An arrow sailed past her, slamming into the Dark Elf's back with incredible force. He coughed out blood, and began falling to his knees. The arrow had passed right through his heart, he would be dead within a few moments. He threw out his arms as he fell.

"Drop to the snow." he told her, as the flame around his body began to creep back into his body, causing an immense concentration of Magicka in a small area. "Tutela tutor, flamma de anima, caro ardeat Dryadalum!" the flame exploded outwards, burning and incinerating everything above the Dunmer's waist, including the Dunmer himself. The Aldmeri Soldiers were dead, and the surrounding trees were burnt and destroyed.

She slowly brought herself up and looked around what she could see. It was on fire, burning and cracking. There was no life in the area, besides her, nothing, not even birds. She hung her head low, her fallen comrade's presence completely destroyed, there was nothing left. She tried to walk, but was forced to crawl, her body too tired to do anything else. Rustling from behind her once she'd made considerable distance made her stop to look back. Sure enough, three enemy men had found her, but by that time she was too fatigued and had lost too much blood to fight back.

"Finish it," she taunted, trying to stand. "If you can…" she couldn't even move her sword arm. The three came forward as her vision seemed to blacken. A quick motion brought her back to the real world, a heavy swing slammed into the enemy, severing two in half and killing the third one just as effectively. She smiled as she recognized the only man she ever knew to be so physically powerful on his own. He rested his greatsword on his cloaked shoulder and smiled with his reptilian teeth and green scaled cheeks.

"I thought that explosion was the last we would ever see of you," Vala said as she caught her. "Damn, don't ever scare us like that again." she looked up at her pale sister of death, and smiled back.

"Shut up, just get me to a healer, or something." she chuckled, her vision fading further. She felt a cold, a dead-like cold, hand touch her face. She started to feel better, and looked up to see who it was.

"We're all here, Shrix." Vale said, her vampiric stare reassuring her. The Khajiit siblings made themselves known from the treetops, their bows ready to fire at any given moment. Shrix lost consciousness before anything else could happen however, and only woke up after they had made it back to the camp.

She stood up on her own after Caro had set her down on a medical bed. After Vale's advanced healing skills, she was almost perfectly fine, just a few fractures and muscle tears that the Vampire still had to fix.

"Fuck, I thought I was going to die," she said as Vale continued healing her. The Vampire wasn't muttering any incantations, or speaking at all, she was just concentrating. A thought popped into her head. "Vale? How much training does it take to cast a spell without any words or incantations?" the Vampire opened her eyes and stopped healing the half-Argonian.

"It depends." she said, looking at Shrix's expression, which was not a happy one.

"On what?"

"On the level of the spell, skill of the mage, and their level of mastery." she replied, thinking of what else, and any example she could bring up. "I would say secondary magical education, at the very least. Magic taught by a tutor, or a low ranking magical adept." Shrix gave her a look that wanted more information. "I've only ever instructed four young Sorcerers in my life. Two when I was an adept at the College of Winterhold, one as an intern at the University in Cyrodiil, and the final one as a Professor at the College again. Actually, it was more like a class in Winterhold, but only one of them was my exclusive student."

"Vale, that isn't an answer to my question." she sighed, thinking of how she could clarify any further. "I mean, how much training does it take to fling a fireball without uttering a word? Like how good at magic would you need to be?" Vale let out a small breath.

"It's different for every person, but usually when they become an Apprentice under an Adept practitioner, they begin to learn how to cast spells below or at their level without speaking. It's one of the first major steps in becoming a mage. The more well known it is to the user, the easier it is to cast." Shrix contemplated what she had said for a brief moment.

"As a Dark Elf, you're naturally gifted in Destruction Magic," she started, remembering what the Vampire had once told her. "You never utter incantations, or words, or anything when you use those types of spells, especially Ice-type ones. Is it because of your intense knowledge of Destruction Magic above all else, or is it an affinity for Frost Magic?" Vale shrugged, and nodded as she moved to sit in front of Shrix to look her in the eyes.

"Okay, I've done… a lot of bad and questionable things in my quest for power and immortality." she said, sitting back a little bit and scratching her head. "It didn't always end well. I ended up a Vampire because of it. I lost my family, and pretty much everything because of it. Being an assassin for as long as I, in a way, it doesn't even compare to some of the stuff I've done." she waved the last bit Vale had said off completely.

"As a Dunmer, you have a magical bloodline ability, don't you?" she asked her, remembering the Flame Cloak the Elf had produced in her battle before her family showed up. "It's like a visible aura, a full-body coat of flame for Dunmer, right?" Vale nodded taken aback by Shrix's question. She stood up and snapped her fingers, making a flaming cloak. It wasn't the same as the Elf she was with.

"Like this, you mean?" Vale asked. "This isn't the real thing, it's a Flame Cloak spell, and it's the closest thing to what you mean." Shrix stood up without feeling any pain.

"Can you show it to me?" she asked, watching Vale's perplexed look nod to her request. After the Flame Cloak was taken off, Vale threw out her arms and her entire body ignited in the same fire as the Dunmer before. It wasn't that it was similar in shape, or color, or look. It was _exactly_ the same as the Dunmer. "Do all of them look the exact same?" Vale gave her a questioning look.

"What?" she asked, narrowing her eyes. "Just 'cause I'm an Elf, and a Mage, doesn't mean we all have the same Ancestor Guardian you know." Shrix narrowed her eyes, wondering how Vale could possibly think like that.

"No, it's the exact same as the Dunmer boy's in the woods. He was even able to shrink and manipulate his." she told her friend, which suddenly got her wondering when Vale's eyes widened. "Do you have brats, or something?" Vale was silent.

"I-I… No, I don't. Not for a long time, but…" she paused, closing her eyes to concentrate. She eventually sighed and opened her eyes. "He was a direct bloodline relative of mine. My great-great-great-great grandson. It's too bad he died, I would have liked to know him." she said the little bit without any emotion, a skill she learned from years of distancing herself from the dead and family. "I shouldn't have gotten to know him, now that I think about it. I am an old lady, one that has outlived her own children several times over."

"He was still family, Vale." Shrix said. "If I had a chance to see my parents again, I would take it without a second thought, you know?" she scratched her head. "I mean, me and father weren't exactly close, but he was always there for me when I really needed it." Vale wasn't even phased by what she was saying. It wasn't odd, actually. Anyone close to Vale wasn't mourned if they died, and even if the boy was family, she was as close to him as a sabre cat could be to a rabbit.

"Anyways, we should get you back in your full gear, we're going back into the field today," she sighed, standing up to leave Shrix by herself. "I'll send over Zassa and Vala." she nodded, and waited for the two others to show up before she started getting ready again. She was already going back into the fight, after just getting back from the enemy lines, the enemy camps, and returning barely alive.

The Khajiit was the first one she noticed when the two girls sat down next to her in the snow. Zassa was freezing her ass off, that much was evident from how her body was shaking. Vala, being a werewolf on top of the fact that she was also a Nord, was perfectly fine, and was in fact almost radiating heat like a forge. Shrix wondered what Darkus, a pure-blooded werewolf's skin was like, whether it was hotter or the same as Vala's. She began wondering what it felt like, but shook her head of those thoughts immediately.

"You seem to be far from the field of battle, Sister." Zassa said, snapping Shrix back into the real world. She stretched her back, working her newly formed muscles.

"Sorry Zassa, I'm just adjusting to the constant fight." she said with irritation in her voice, as she looked over to the captain's tent. "If the idiots just sent us on an assassination mission instead of thief and recon, we could've ended a lot of this fight by now." The Khajiit just held her arms up and shrugged.

"What can we do about it? That man was appointed as our leader, and we don't get a choice what we do." she said, as the 'captain' in question walked out of his tent, looking all high-and-mighty, acting superior. "If we try anything, we get imprisoned and sentenced to death." she watched as the small man consulted with some of the other faction leaders, a few Imperial armored men amongst them.

"We could always kill them…" Shrix sighed under her breath, strapping more of her gear on. Vala and Zassa coughed, having caught what she'd said in her whisper with their advanced hearing.

"Now you're beginning to sound like another werewolf we know…" Riaz said, appearing from behind her. "Riaz hopes he hasn't influenced Shrix from her tempered and focused discipline." she swung her arm back, hitting him in the knees, forcing him to fall.

"I was just emulating his thought process, is all," she said, looking at Riaz as he grabbed his knee and tried his hardest not to yell. "Just what I thought he'd say about now." Riaz went to open his mouth, but Zassa shoved her hand into it, shutting him up quickly.

"It does sound like something he would say," Vala shrugged, handing Shrix an Ebony dagger. She took it and strapped it to her ankle, holding her hand out for her crossbow as well. Vala gave her an odd look.

"What?" she asked, an eyebrow quirked up to emphasise her confusion.

"You haven't taken your crossbow for a long time, what's changed?" Vala asked her, holding out the weapon for her friend anyways. Shrix shrugged, and put it on her back along with some bolts.

"I figure it's probably a better idea for me to carry an extra long-range weapon, one that's silent and guarantees a kill." she replied, standing up and finishing the final fastenings on her armor. She looked over to the officers again. "I'm killing the enemy officers today, no matter what our orders are. If they die, we get a better foothold. Our morale goes up."

"In other words, we're one step closer to winning, right?" Vala concluded, her chin resting in her hand. Shrix nodded with a smile, standing up to make sure she was ready to move. She twisted and punched and kicked, finalizing her self-inspection to ensure a full range of motion in her armor. Just to show off, she did a backflip and stuck it perfectly, without a sound. She let out a breath with happiness. Vale had done her job well.

"With any luck, we'll instill confidence in the main fighters." she told the three, sitting down again. "Spying and espionage is fun and all, but assassination is where the strategy is." she stared back to watch Caro win an arm wrestle with a Nord, who looked like he was about to collapse from exhaustion.

"That poor guy…" Zassa sighed, a light smirk on her face. "Caro's gonna break his arm if he doesn't give up soon." Shrix took note of how effortlessly Caro held the man's arm in place, a small grin gracing his otherwise reptilian features. If the half-Argonian wanted to, he could've easily broken the bones.

"You're getting off on that a little bit too much, don't you think?" Shrix asked her, narrowing her eyes at the sight of the enamored, blushing Khajiit. It was different for the Khajiit than the human and elf races, instead of their faces turning red, their ears would go slightly lax, their eyes would narrow and the pupils become big, and the fur on their cheeks would stand on end. Exactly how Zassa's expression was as she watched the arm-wrestle, throw in a little drool and a slightly stuck-out tongue.

"Huh?" she asked, not paying the slightest attention to Shrix, her gaze fixed on Caro's arm and grin. Shrix tried waving her hand in front of the cat's gaze, get her attention off of Caro, but to no avail. The only thing that got Zassa to take her eyes off of Caro was when they were called to attention by the commander who had somehow snuck up on them.

"At ease, soldiers," the man ordered, pacing with his hands behind his back. "You four, plus three others are one team of infiltrators tasked with the assassination of several large figureheads within the enemy encampment." the Brotherhood children widened their eyes slightly, surprised by the fact that they were finally making a move. "The other team is a distraction, and are being sent in with a large squadron of Infantry troops. In case you are captured, or killed, the names of your assassination targets will be given to you, and only you. One man, one target. Should you be captured, remember that there is no other to kill your target." Shrix thought the order was slightly odd, but at the same time, she understood why it was like that. The man's already serious face turned even more stern as he looked directly at Shrix, grabbing her chin and looking directly into her eyes with malice, and something else that she couldn't quite recognize. "I'm putting you in charge, Lass. This will be your last chance, don't fuck it up, or there will be consequences."

"Yes, Captain," she replied, sweating a little bit because of the disgusting feeling she got from the man. Vala stepped out of line, giving the captain a cold stare.

"Sir, I hardly believe that's fair!" she said to him, making him turn towards her. He walked over to her rather slowly, unnervingly so. "It's not her fault! Maybe if the men you sent out with her had any level of skill in stealth and thievery, she wouldn't return alone all of the-!" the captain had slapped her, hard enough that she, even strengthened by her Lycanthropy, was rocked to the side. Shrix could hardly believe the werewolf didn't transform out of pure rage over being hit by a man who didn't even know what he was doing.

"Quiet, or do you wish to take her place?" the man asked her, raising his hand again. Vala gulped.

"I apologize, Captain," she said, not bothering to touch her cheek lest she be struck further.

"Good. You are to mobilise immediately, without pause." he bit through his teeth, turning to leave the group to allow them time to prepare.

Shrix watched him with narrow eyes as he stalked back to his warm cozy tent. She didn't like the man, not one tiny, little, bit. Not because he was a Nord who saw her as less than a lesser being, but because he gave her a bad feeling.

"Fucking creep…" Vala cursed in a low snarl, taking the group by surprise because of how much ferocity was in her voice.

"Vala…?" Riaz began, getting a glare from the werewolf that made him jump.

"Bastard… That sonovabitch thinks he can touch me like that… thinks he can come near my sisters like that…" she grumbled angrily, her rage seeping off of her into a chill on Shrix's spine.

"Vala, what are you talking about?!" Shrix asked.

"You don't see it, do you? That misogynistic piece of troll shit, he threatened your body just now, and mine along with it!" she barked, just low enough that no one past the third tent would hear. "When he told you about consequences, he literally meant he was going to violate you." Shrix normally would have taken her word as absolute, but lately Vala had been getting more and more paranoid with the population of men that constantly surrounded them.

"Vala, you're reading too much into it… Riaz knows you have better intuition, and you've almost never been wrong about these hunches, but…" Riaz began, scratching his head just below his ears. "There is no way a man like him would even dare attempt such a thing on Shrix or you. He's a man in his later years, a man who would not 'bring himself lower' by frolicing with young girls, especially werewolves and half-lizards." though Shrix wanted to punch him for how he phrased it, the cat was right, and they had to get a move on.

"Okay, that's enough. We can discuss it later when we return from our mission." she finally concluded, getting ready to leave once again.

Varka looked over to the mountains from his position near the campfire. It had been two months, and Varka had not returned to Whiterun, nor barely spoken with his father since they'd met on the road. Vilkas liked to train the boy in combat more than anything else, almost never even talking other than to correct a mistake Varka had made.

Vilkas walked through the small clearing with an animal he was carrying over his shoulder. It was dead, and already gutted as far as Varka could smell and see. The older man dropped the beast on the ground, ripped a large chunk of meat from its body, and started to cook it over the flames.

"Father…" Varka began, trying to get Vilkas' attention, though the man seemed utter focused on roasting his meal. "Why did you go? What reason did you have for leaving me, and Vilka, and mother? How come you never returned?" Vilkas didn't look like he had heard a single thing Varka had said. In heated anger, the boy rose from is log, throwing his sword onto the ground. "Dammit, do you even care that all of our cousins and family are gone?! Uncle Farkas, Aunt Saire, even Sam! They're all gone, and you couldn't care less!" Vilkas' expression hadn't changed, save for his lips were curved downwards in a frown.

"That isn't true, and you know it's not." the man said, standing up straight to look his son in the eyes. "Farkas may not have ever told you, but I kept in touch with him throughout the years." Varka wondered what he had meant by it, but in a way, didn't care.

"I don't give a damn about some stupid that!" he barked, taking a step forwards. Vilkas' expression remained the same. "You left! You disappeared, you don't have the right to talk to me about what you did and didn't do!" Vilkas made a swift movement, and knocked Varka's feet out from under him.

"Get off your ass, kid." he ordered in a stern voice with a straight face. Vilkas drew the beat up greatsword from his back. "Take up your blade, or fall to me as you are!" Varka instantly accepted the challenge, swinging forward with all his might in rage. It was already over. Vilkas deflected the blade like it were nothing, punched Varka in the stomach hard enough to knock the wind out of him, and then kicked him hard, the force throwing Varka into a nearby tree. Varka coughed as he rose to his feet. "Control your temper, right now, and sit the fuck down!" surprised by Vilkas' sudden shift in mood, Varka gulped and did as he was told.

"Yes, Father," he said, sitting calmly on the log, waiting for Vilkas to speak. The old Nord crouched in front of the younger one, and messed up his hair, leaving his hand atop the red mane.

"Are you going to listen?" he asked, gaining a small glare from Varka. "I will answer any question you have, after I finish speaking." Varka nodded, allowing Vilkas to sit down across from him. "As twins, you and your sister care for one another, you two do anything to protect one another, even if it puts your lives in danger. Farkas made sure certain letters were getting to me, and mine were getting back to him." Varka didn't understand what he meant, causing Vilkas to laugh. "Yes, I know it sounds stupid, and doesn't make much sense now, but it will. Eventually."

"That's, er, great…" Varka sighed, more confused than not at his father's words.

"Alright, now to answer your question," he began, shifting in his spot. "I do care about you, your mother, and your sister. It's because I care that left." Varka began to look angry again, which, considering his red hair and warpaint, wasn't that hard for him to accomplish. "I had something extremely important to do, something that could change the outcome of the war."

"Father, we already know the Dominion is assaulting Windhelm. If you want to make a difference, take your 'new skills' there." the boy interrupted, making Vilkas let out a small sigh. "If your skill is so important, than take it into the fight!"

"It's not for the Dominion, but for something else." he told Varka, pulling the second greatsword he carried from behind the rock. The blade was tinted blue, engraved with a lizard of some kind, and seemed to flash the color of the moon. "I take it by now you have fought and slain a Dragon?" Varka shrugged.

"I mean, I have fought a Dragon, but…" he began, reliving the day he was stupid enough to go looking for one. "It kind of left those scars on my back… After uncle Farkas showed up to save my ass. Thank the Divines he didn't tell mother…" Vilkas almost couldn't hold himself off from laughing.

"I suppose you thought you could handle the beast on your own, huh?" he asked Varka, gaining a shake of his head.

"Not exactly. _We_ thought we could handle a Dragon on our own," he started, watching as Vilkas' forehead dropped into his palm.

"No…" he groaned, looking back up only slightly. "You didn't-?"

"Yes, Vilka went with me." he finished, watching Vilkas drop his head back into his palms. "Well, hey, she wasn't hurt, you know, too bad."

"Her Beast Blood saw to that, I'm sure." Vilkas said, letting out a final groan, probably wondering how he'd let it get that far. After finishing, he held up the sword again. "Anyways, I went looking for this Blades' sword. It was a weapon forged by the Akavir- an ancient race of men- for the very purpose of destroying a Dragon's body. From what I was able to dig up, both literally and figuratively, was that the blade was so powerful that one swing from a worthy warrior would cleave clean through a Dragon's hide." Varka raised an eyebrow. "Unfortunately, I was unable to find the actual weapon, and had to forge this one myself."

"So this is a replica?" he asked his father, looking closer at the magnificent blade. Vilkas shook his head.

"Not quite, I'm sure the real blade is much more magnificent, as technically the blade would belong to the Akaviri Dragonguard." he answered, stabbing the sword into the ground, watching as the pale light flashed into the dirt. "This is an original, I've never tested it, so I won't know if I succeeded in making the weapon, not until we face a Dragon. For all I know, I've enchanted the blade to cause paralysis on touch."

"What is it made out of?" Varka asked, intrigued by the blade's coloring.

"Moonstone, Oricalchum, and Ebony." Vilkas replied, pulling the blade from the dirt, swinging it quickly in several directions, letting the pale light trail behind the swings. "It is very strong, and will not break for anything less than a Dragon's maw." after placing the weapon back down, he looked at Varka again. "Anything else?"

"Just one, when are we going home?" he replied, looking Vilkas dead in the eyes. The Nord sighed, yet again, and dug around in his bag for a small emerald necklace. Varka looked at the piece of jewelry, which was either homemade, or very expensive… maybe even at the cost of some blood. Vilkas scratched his head as his eyes seemed to close a little bit.

"Well, er, you see…" he began trying to think of a quick way to put it. He seemed to think of something he may be able to turn into a joke as he smirked for a moment. "If I go back to Whiterun now, empty handed after all these years with nothing to give your mother, she will have my ass- and not in the fun way-"

"Ew, dad!"

"-She might actually cut off my ass and nail it on her wall, not exactly a fun time for pops, right?" he concluded, ending his sentence with a light chuckle, although Varka looked disgusted. "So does it look good enough to save my life?" Varka looked at the green and golden amulet's intricate design, a wolf, and shrugged.

"I dunno, maybe?" he said. From what he knew throughout his life, his mother didn't seem to care too much about jewels, so Varka was unsure whether or not his father would get to live or not when they returned to Jorrvaskr. "It's hard to tell, mom never really liked jewelry too much, and she usually just looses arrows at your feet without asking questions, so if you're lucky you'll get back home while she's asleep."

"Hey, don't forget that you also left without telling your mother. You're in the exact same situation I am." Vilkas told the younger Nord. "Er, well, mostly the same anyways. At least you aren't married to her."

"Dad, you aren't married to her either…" Varka murmured under his breath, looking off to the side a little bit. Realizing his father was right, Varka shot straight up with his hands on either side of his head. "Shit!" he yelled, pacing around, muttering incomprehensible little grunts as he went, until he suddenly stopped, pointing a finger at Vilkas. "I'm fucked! You're fucked! _We're_ fucked!"

"Lady Mara," he cursed under his breath. "What's wrong with you now?"

"Mother! Don't you get it?!" he screamed, quickly crouching down behind the logs, shooting a suspicious glare around like a cat. "She's going to find us, and drag us back home… but we can outsmart her!" Vilkas' half-done-with-this-shit expression at Varka's borderline insanity was truly something to behold, if the boy's statement didn't yield some actual fact.

"You can outsmart, who now?" Aela asked, landing between the two men with a loud thump. She had jumped from the treetops above the two. She turned to glare menacingly into Varka's soul, nearly making him fall backwards from where he was crouched.

"Aela dear, take a moment to-" Vilkas was cut off as the werewolf covered his mouth with her hand. She seemed to make an angry pout.

"Not one word from you- not right now." she bit, her voice cold enough to scare an Frost Atronach back to Oblivion. She waited for his eyes to roll, and his head to nod, before she removed her hand and stumbled over to where Varka was. "Speak, brat!" she barked, making Varka shrink in place, and gulp.

"Y-yes, ma'am!" he replied, standing up to stare the slightly shorter older woman in her eyes. Vilkas seemed surprised at Varka's lack of any confidence or bravery in the presence of his mother. "Erm, Father was asking me what we could do to hide our scents, and-"

"That is not true!" Vilkas barked back in outrage that Varka attempted to throw him under the mammoth. With an amber glare, Aela put him back in his place. Vilkas was a skilled warrior, but to tempt fate by braving a werewolf filled to the brim with rage and anger was more suicide than anything. After he stood up as well, the werewolf backed up to him, and leaned against his Wolf Armor, using him as a massive wall.

"I heard everything, so there's no point in lying to me," she told the two, her arms folded across her chest. With a light sigh, she pulled the two taller Nords into her arms, and hugged them. "I'm just glad the both of you are safe. Especially the boy." exhaling a small breath of relief, the two thought they had gotten off of her bad side. "However, both of you are going to face punishment for the strain you've placed upon my heart."

"Yes, mother," Varka said, breaking free of Aela's grip, and treading over to one of the fur tents, stripping off the armor he was wearing down to his shirt and pants. "You two, um, have a lot to talk about…"

The pair watched the boy crawl into the bedroll, and slowly fall asleep. Without a moment's hesitation, Aela turned completely around, and punched Vilkas hard in the jaw. He fell over from the strength she'd put behind it, but was holding onto her when she hit him, and the two tumbled onto the ground rather loudly.

"Fuck, you've still got an excellent left hook," he said, massaging the side of his jaw while wrapping his other arm around her waist. He was grinning even though the force from her punch opened a gash. "Glad to see you haven't softened up in the last little while. Have you had any fun since I left?" with a frown and furrowed brows, the werewolf traced his jaw and prodded the bloodied flesh.

"Shut up, I'm loyal to you," she replied, sitting up and flicking his forehead. "Besides, we have other things to talk about." he squinted slightly.

"Like what? You heard everything Varka and I talked about before, what else is there to talk about?" he asked her, sitting up and stretching out to rid his limbs of the soreness they would gain from taking a tumble in heavy steel. Unclasping the buckles and fastenings that held his body encased in a steel shell, Aela pulled his torso free. The armor was heavy, making her wonder how he was wearing it at all.

"Well, for one thing, maybe you were wondering what your children have been up to of late?" she wondered, throwing the heavy plates aside before removing his gauntlets and boots, leaving him in the dark bandage coverings. He nodded, twisting his stiff torso to loosen it up.

"It crossed my mind, maybe once or twice," he shrugged, taking one of the silver streaks of her hair between his fingertips. He liked the color, it was much more likeable to him than his greying mane of black hair. "You have aged extremely well…" without paying attention to his compliment, she pushed him down to lay on his chest.

"Your daughter has taken a liking to Al's boy," she told him with a light chuckle, hearing his heartbeat through his thickly muscled chest. "Not that it matters, as she seems bent on killing just about every creature she can in Skyrim." Vilkas shrugged.

"That doesn't surprise me. Al was extremely powerful and intelligent, I'm positive his son turned out the same way," he replied, looking at the red head of hair below his chin. Aela laughed a little bit as he finished his sentence. "What is it?"

"Darkus isn't like Al at all," she told the Nord. "For one thing, the boy looks like his mother. He is much thinner than many warriors, despite his strength. The last time I checked, he was strong enough to rival Farkas, the brute…" she suddenly stopped at the mention of Vilkas' dead brother. "I mean, you wouldn't expect much from him."

"Varka mentioned that the two went after a dragon on their own. How did that actually play out?" he wondered, trying to get the subject back on his son and daughter. Aela let out a strained sigh, and rubbed her temples.

"Your idiot son thought it would just be a great honor to slay a godly beast." she told him, sounding like she wanted nothing to do with that conversation either. "Anyways, Vilka decided _not_ to learn how to use a blade during the small adventure she and her brother shared. She came back and didn't look at any of the close range fighters for almost a month."

"I would assume she learned from that experience and started training with a dagger?"

"Yes," she replied. "Darkus taught her. The boy is surprisingly proficient with many weapons. He favors longswords, but is also an expert with daggers and bows." Vilkas raised an eyebrow before relaxing it.

"What else would you expect from living with Lydia? The woman is a Nord warrior after all, she would make sure the boy was highly skilled." he chuckled, thinking of what else to say on the subject. "I have never actually met him before, how good is he?"

"Very. Sam and Varka had a hard time fighting him two against one." she told him, letting out a light sigh. "Darkus has speed, intelligence, and power on his side. He can aim and shoot a bow better than I could at his age, and anything and everything he can hold can be used as his weapon."

"He sounds like a Khajiit Monk," Vilkas surmised, briefly remembering the encounter he and Al had with a group one time when the two had left to for a job. With a small amount of realization as he said it, his jaw dropped. "Lydia didn't…"

"She did," Aela confirmed with a small nod. "A few years in Elsweyr, and Lydia's continuous training has made him quite the effective killing machine, even in his human form." before Vilkas could even ask, Aela was already answering his next question. "He was born a werewolf. I and Lydia have had trouble dealing with his uncontrollable transformations-"

"Is that how you got those scars?"

"-yes, now let me continue." she replied, a small hint of annoyance in her voice. "You would not believe how strong he is when he transforms. The beast is a terrifying sight as well, truly a wild animal, but anyways, he trained with a monk among a group of other acolytes. From what I heard, Darkus had left the acolytes early because of a small incident regarding the murder of several students."

"Did Darkus kill his fellow acolytes?" he asked his wife, slowly getting up again to carry her to his tent. She saw what he was doing, and immediately broke free from his arms. "What is it?" she was shaking her head and crossed her arms.

"I am _not_ sleeping with you in a tent less than six feet away from our lycanthropic son." she declared absolutely, planting her feet into the ground. Vilkas raised an eyebrow, picking up a rag from inside the tent, and held it to his wound.

"Huh. I didn't think you wanted to do anything with me the night I got back," he told her, taking the bedroll from the inside before walking back to his wife. "You sure are fast to forgive me." he threw the blankets on the ground and crawled in, motioning for her to join him. Suppressing a small smile, Aela rolled her eyes and took off her armor, laying next to him before he pulled the blankets to cover them both.

She was amused that he had such a large bedroll, but didn't mind it as she was much warmer than he was, and he was a lot bigger than the last time she saw him. His shoulders were broader and his torso thicker, unlike his younger self. His beard and hair were generally the same, save for a few more braids holding his greying mane back. His eyes were the same though, white and hard to look at without having to squint or look away, much like his daughter's.

She was not happy that he had left, and was more curious of why he had left in the first place. There was another, more pressing matter that the two needed to talk about, but Aela didn't feel the need to bring it up until Vilkas was the one who brought it up. She was still wearing the golden band the Nord had given her months before he left.

"What is that on your finger?" he asked her, taking her hand in his own to feel around the ring. He let out a laugh on her forehead, and gave the Nord a kiss, which she haughtily wiped off. "You're still wearing the ring, after all these years?" she flicked his forehead.

"Of course I did, you never called the wedding off, you know." she replied, hugging herself closer to his body. Just like he always had, he wrapped his arms all the way around her to keep any amount of space between their two bodies non-existent. She felt him brush her hair back, and plant another kiss on her forehead. "Do you still want to marry me?"

"Aye, I do, Aela." he answered her as he pulled her head closer to his chest. "Tomorrow, we make for Whiterun." his hand clasped around her's once again. "And if you still want to, we can get married within the next few weeks."

"Why else would I still wear the ring?"

"That's a pretty good point," he laughed in reply, falling asleep not long after.

Shrix pulled the tight cowl around her head, tucking her hair within as she pulled the mask past her nose. She was alone, her group had just split away to prepare for their own individual assignments. She pulled out the small letter from the inside of her armor, and opened it. She sighed as she realized she had no idea who her target was. She had nothing on them. No information on their behaviour, their sex, their habits. She was going to kill someone she knew absolutely nothing about, someone who was a complete mystery.

' _No wonder these Nords haven't won the battle yet,'_ she groaned, slowly scaling down the mountain without a sound. It was bad enough that she was tired, clumsy, and injured, but now she was going to attempt to assassinate someone who, for all she knew, was a Master Wizard who had also mastered swordplay.

It was cold and annoyingly dark from where she stood, the camps lit up like a city on New Year's, enticing her to come within the light. Of course, she knew she had no choice but to go through the camp without the shadows on her side. Thankfully, Shrix and her brother were born under the sign of the Shadow, and could turn invisible for a ten minutes at will once per day, requiring little of her inborn Magicka.

She realized that she would need it for an escape once everything went to the Void, and started to very carefully make her way through the camp, hiding whenever she thought someone could see her. Although it made her terribly slow, and she was able to eavesdrop on various soldiers who talked about her target. As it turned out, Eilia Iovis was a womer, and was very good with melee weapons. Unfortunately, she was unable to get anything else on her. There was no more information she could get from them.

As she approached her tent, she could hear sounds coming from the inside. Moaning and small screams, of what Shrix could only assume, were pleasure, came from the inside as she slowly made her way inside. Thankfully for her, it was extremely dark within, and she was able to enter without a sound. As she readied her crossbow to fire, she noticed that there were two people in the bed on the opposite side of the tent. Slightly embarrassed at what she had just barged in on, and was going to have to literally cut off, she made her way closer.

She silently placed the cocked weapon on her back and drew two small Ebony Daggers, making her plan in her head as quickly as she could. She was a little too late, as the two Altmer finished their sexual acts moments before Shrix was able to decide what to do. As the male of the two larger Elves stepped out of the bed, mere inches away from her, she was startled and jumped straight up, cutting his throat and ending his life at the same time.

Without waiting for even a moment, the Assassin pounced upon her real target, and stabbed the dagger straight down, impaling the Altmer woman's left breast, and piercing her heart. The Altmer made an effort to kill Shrix before she died, and pulled the cowl from her head, leaving four long gashes on the side of Shrix's face as her hand fell and she began to drown in her own blood. Quickly realizing the Elf's scream was going to get her discovered, Shrix pulled her daggers out, and slammed them both through her target's eyes, effectively killing her.

Sheathing the daggers, Shrix dove through the flap of the tent, activating her Moonshadow power as she entered the light, hiding herself from hostile stares. As the various soldiers ran into the tent, finding their leader dead, Shrix nimbly dove and rolled around them, making almost no sound as she quickly maneuvered her way farther and farther from the enemy Captain's tent.

"Everyone on high alert!" she heard someone yell, approaching a with a mass of Altmer soldiers. Shrix didn't think it could get worse, that was, until she saw Vale emerge from the shadows in a set of Dominion armor. She walked straight up to the mer in charge, standing at attention like all the others. "Several of our officers have been found dead! Fan out and find the assassins!" Shrix noticed the small spark of crimson fire in Vale's hands, feeling her heart suddenly drop into her stomach.

Vale, for whatever reason, couldn't tell that Shrix was there, and from what Vale had told of her various adventures making locations where her targets resided blow halfway to the planes of Oblivion. Not liking where that was going, Shrix broke her restraint and bolted in the opposite direction of Vale and the soldiers, accidentally knocking into one and falling over as Vale began to incant the spell. As the heat from the massive wave of blood-red flame reached Shrix's skin, the half-Argonian stabbed the soldier she knock into, embedding the dagger into his back, and pulling him over her as a shield as the world around her became engulfed in fire.

She coughed as she pulled herself from the still hot ashes of the Mer and the surrounding leather tents. The only thing that kept her from being burned was the Altmer armor, which she could tell was enchanted thanks to Vale. Not much time seemed to have passed, as the area was still completely clear of any soldiers or mages, enemy or ally. With soreness screaming in her arms and legs, she stood up and wiped her face of the ash and sweat that covered it. The camp wasn't even recognizable, just snow and ice covered in ash.

She slowly started a limping walk back in the direction she came from, but the air was heavy and hard to breath. It burned her throat, made her want to throw up, drop onto her knees, and stop completely. It scorched her eyes and made it hard to see, stuck to her tongue and the roof of her mouth. The blast had made it hard for her to hear, but since it wasn't too loud she probably wouldn't suffer hearing loss from it.

The screams and war cries sent electricity through her spine, forcing her legs to move and propel her into the trees where she could hide. As she let herself rest, the small army of Elves marching to meet Nordic soldiers on the battlefield passed by, nearly paralyzing her out of fear. She felt a hand close over her mouth, and out of instinct, tried to bite down into it, but couldn't. The man's strong arms held her still as he let a low familiar hiss escape his mouth.

"Quiet, Sister!" he whispered urgently in her ear. After a moment, Shrix's arms and legs went slack, her chest lowering as she let out a deep breath that she had been holding. Caro smiled his rare toothy Argonian grin as he released his hand from her mouth. After the Elves had long passed, the two finally stood up. "I was wondering where you had ended up."

"Sorry, Vale's target got into my area, so I was there when the camp exploded." she apologized, keeping herself steady despite the screaming pain in her left leg. Caro let loose his trademark argonian rasp, a laugh of sorts, one of the things that only her brother inherited from Swim. "It is not funny, brother,"

"No, it isn't- not to you," he said to her, looking over their shoulders to ensure they hadn't been followed. "However, to me it's absolutely hysterical." she grumbled as the two traversed the hills and pines silently, only stopping when the pair finally reached the tents of their encampments.

Upon noticing their return, Caro let go of his sister and ran forward to catch Zassa in his arms. She let out a relieved and somewhat teary breath as his arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her off of the cold Skyrim ground. Even Shrix could tell from where she stood that Zassa was shaking as much from the cold as relief. Looking at the sight, Shrix let out her mother's Nordic laugh, and continued a slow walk over the fire she and the others usually hung around. Upon sitting down, she realized that Vala was missing from the rest of the group, and wondered if she'd gotten stuck out in the cold.

"What happened to your armor?" Vale asked her with a raised brow, looking at the charred studded leather.

"You know exactly what happened to my armor," she replied with a sigh of pain as her adrenaline wore off, and she began to feel the full effects of her injured leg. "And speaking of what happened, you think you can spare me some of that Magicka for my leg?" the Vampire shrugged and wandered over, a pale golden glow encasing her dark palms as they ran the length of Shrix's shin. The Vampire let out a light sigh.

"Your leg is broken, I'm surprised you were able to stay awake, let alone walk on it," she said, narrowing her eyes at a sight only she seemed able to view. With a small pop and cracking feeling in Shrix's leg, the half-Argonian yelped in pain. "Then again, maybe it isn't. It's probably just a fracture."

"Thanks, sister," she said with a small grin. The Dark Elf wasn't smiling, far from it in fact. "What's wrong?"

"Vala should've been back over twenty minutes ago, that's what." she replied rather cold and stone-like.

"Vala went somewhere? Why? I was put in charge, wasn't I?" she asked, pulling the sword from her back and stabbing it into the ground to use as a makeshift cane. Vale nodded.

"Yes, however when you did not return with the rest of us, the Vala insisted on speaking to the Captain, saying she was your second in command, to get a search party for your body." she answered, her arms crossed over her chest. "Caro left before any decision was made, and now you are both back. Vala should have been here _before_ the two of you." Shrix gulped.

"Hey, Vale, you don't think-?"

"That's exactly what I'm thinking." the Vampire cut in with a sharp voice. "A strong older man and a young woman in an enclosed room together. It's the perfect opportunity for anything to happen." Shrix began to walk when Vale started moving in the direction of the Captain's tent. "Even as strong as Vala is with her Beast Blood, it only takes a silver ring, or enchanted leather bindings, to render her power useless."

Vale stopped just outside of the tent, and a look of uttermost rage crossed her face, accompanied by terror, and fear. Shrix knew that whatever the Vampire had heard, whatever the Elf had felt, it was enough to make her freeze in her tracks. With newfound resolve and anger of her own, Shrix drew the crossbow from her back, and pulled open the flap of the dark tent.

There were sounds of leather straining, gagged and muffled screams of agony and torture. Terrible sounds of whispered yelling and a leather whip cracking. Shrix gulped again, a large lump in her throat as her eyes fell upon a truly brutal, terrible, enraging sight.

" _I should have listened to her earlier,"_ she said to herself as she growled and bared her teeth, her fingernails digging into her palms and drawing blood. The Nordic man, old and stupid, truly a masterpiece of the world's trash, was going to die for his crimes. _"Vala, he is going to die. I'm going to kill him right now. For what he's done to you, there is no forgiveness! There is no slow end to his suffering!"_

"I send you-" She began, discarding the crossbow in favor of the longsword, as she swung the heavy blade upwards, cleaving the man's forearms and lower jaw from his body. "-TO THE VOID!" as the Nord fell backwards, Shrix stabbed the black sword straight down through the man's torso, not killing him yet however. Drawing her remaining dagger, Shrix began to carve and mutilate the body, even long after he had died, until the red-hot rage in her heart subsided.

Hearing Vala's muffled cries of pain and terror were what made Shrix return to the real world around her. With a quick few motions, Shrix severed Vala's restraints, and ungagged her. The Nord embraced her thought lost sister, her wails now audible to all who dared listen. After a few moments, Vala, enraged beyond rational thought, destroyed the remainder of the Nord's body, screaming guttural curses at the top of her lungs. When the tent opened again, it was Riaz who had rushed in to see what was happening.

"Vala!" he called, his Night Eye allowing him to see what was going on in perfect light. He pulled off the loose shirt he had been wearing and covered her in it, looking at Shrix for an answer, any at all, of what else he could do to help. Shrix's face was blank, as though she wasn't there at all. She didn't know what to do either. After a moment, Riaz grabbed a fur from the floor of the tent, and wrapped Vala in it, quickly scooping her up off the ground, and carrying her outside into the break of dawn's light.

"It's my fault…" Shrix uttered in a hollow voice, tears dropping from the tip of her nose as her eyes followed the pair out, quickly accompanied by her body. The Nords, Elves, Khajiit, Argonians, and whoever else just stood with confused looks on their faces. Everyone had heard the screams of rage and the sounds of brutal murder, but she didn't think anyone could actually believe it.

From what Shrix was seeing, Vala had begun transforming. Her claws were tearing into Riaz's back, but he seemed to either not care, or ignore it completely. His blood was going through his armor, painting the dark armor crimson. She watched her shudder and growl the entire time they walked towards the campfire Vale and the others were sitting next to. The Vampire sat with a blank stare, her head in her hands, Zassa and Caro each reeling from what Vale had told them.

Shrix looked over her shoulder, watching countless soldiers flood into the Captain's tent and then come right back out covering their mouths in shock. She personally thought that the man deserved it, though the views of the others may not be like her own. Hearing a sound of bone-crunching against wood, Shrix looked back to her family, seeing Caro holding his now broken hand with his eyes glowing golden and reptilian. That was new. Caro and her both had sapphire eyes which they'd gotten from their mother.

"That sonovabitch!" he cursed, the veins in his temples popping out.

"Quiet! This one does not need be reminded so soon!" Riaz ordered of the half-Argonian, a snarl on his otherwise calm face, his ears pressed flat against his skull. Vala's eyes burned bright amber as her jaw and body began to shift in shape. Shrix hurried to make the Khajiit put her down, but wouldn't get there in time.

"Riaz! Put her down, now!" She called as she closed in on the transforming Werewolf and Cathay-Raht. Riaz paid Shrix no attention, even as his sister, Vale, and Caro began to back away. By that time, Shrix was amazed by Riaz's strength, able to hold almost three hundred pounds of muscle off the ground without straining. It would get worse, as Vala was still only halfway through the transformation. "Riaz!"

"What?!" he asked, turning to face her, holding Vala's head carefully against his chest. The dark fur the both of them were now sheathed in blended perfectly together, and Shrix could see that while enraged, Vala was trying her hardest to keep the monster within from tearing into Riaz.

From afar, the battle in Yngol's field could be seen. The flashing lights of Magic and the cries of war could draw the attention of someone who had lesser hearing and sight. Riaz was walking in that direction with Vala when he was stopped, and Shrix soon realized that he himself had his weapons strapped to his person.

"You're sending Vala into the battle?!" she exclaimed as Riaz put the Lycanthrope on the ground. Even as a Werewolf, Vala was only a little over a head taller than the Khajiit, but was much, much larger in size because of the thickness of her muscles, and her muscle density. Riaz drew his weapon as he pointed Vala to the battle with a stern expression.

"Riaz will join the battle, with Vala alongside him," he replied, marching after the enraged Werewolf. "Vala needs to let loose, if she keeps it within herself, it will only burn more fiercely." he stopped and looked back at them once more. "In all honesty, Riaz feels rage in his heart. The battle will be ended, and then we will decide who else to kill upon the atrocities that have befallen Vala this night."

"Brother does not think to assassinate Ulfric, does he?" Zassa asked him. Without another word, the Khajiit ran after Vala's tracks towards the field of battle. Zassa reeled from the blank and emotionless glare she had gotten from her brother, it was something none of them had ever encountered before. Riaz lost his temper eventually at times, causing fights with his family, but he was almost always a fun-loving cat with his own views on life. Riaz, the man who hated being an assassin as a profession, was now plotting the rage-fueled murder of Skyrim's High King. "Why?"

"Let's go. We cannot allow anything to happen on that battlefield." Caro told them, his eyes still burning golden in their sockets as he lifted his sword over his shoulders and started to walk after them. "I will not sit idly by, waiting for a battle to end while my brother stands in the field with an unclear head. We can't let them do this alone."

* * *

Taro-Li coughed and retched as she hauled herself from the cold puddle of icy water. Judging from her surroundings, she was somewhere in the northern reaches of Winterhold. She hissed and cursed as she shook the water from her Dragonscale armor, and began walking towards the city. She could not believe those pirate scum, crashing their ship so far away from land. The bastards took a small fortune from her and threw it into the depths, allowed her to drift back to Skyrim after she spent so much money on the expedition to Akavir.

At the very least, she hoped Line was alright back in Breezehome and would be preparing her a warm meal. The Nord boy was her Housecarl, after all. She would have to apologize to him when she returned home for not writing him a letter in two months. Thankfully, she was also the Thane of Winterhold, and would be able to purchase safe travel from the carriages there.

As she approached the city, she could see the Guardsmen lined up and holding walls, dressed in their normal armor. She narrowed her crimson eyes. _"Strange, I could have sworn the Imperial Legion was stationed here…"_ she said to herself, taking her time to get closer to the gates, her hand on the Dragonbone Dagger upon her hip. She had a bad feeling.

"Hold there, Argonian," the only guard that approached her ordered. He was a Breton of tall and broad stature, his voice carrying power within it. "What business do you have entering the city?" Li was outraged by this Breton's lack of respect.

"The Thane of Winterhold, wish to enter, my business is my own." she replied with a sharp hiss. The Breton's eyes narrowed as he looked from side to side before grabbing Li and pulling her to the large rocks.

"Be quiet, I have a couple questions that only you can answer." he said, making sure he couldn't be heard. "What's your name? What year were you in?" Li gave him a confused look, and wrestled her arm from him.

"What the fuck kind of questions are those?" she asked him. "I'm the Dragonborn, Taro-Li, it's the year two hundred seven, why do you need to be told that?" with an irritated sigh, the Breton cursed and pulled his guard armor off, revealing himself to be in ebony chainmail and platemail.

"The questions a confused Dragonborn asks another." he replied, his voice now carrying the power she had heard from the Greybeards during her time atop the Throat of the World. "We aren't in our own worlds anymore. I don't know where we ended up, or why we came here, but if it was important enough that two Dragonborn now exist outside of their worlds, it cannot possibly be anything good."

* * *

 **For those wondering about the end of this chapter, it will be explained later on. Theories for it are welcome, and I would enjoy reading them as well, but I think you'll find the explanation pretty interesting. It ties into the reason Alduin has returned in a human form as well.**


	11. Chapter 11: Just Another Prison

Lydia's heart dropped and filled with dread, even before the battle stopped for a moment to listen to the cries of an enraged were-creature. She gulped, the hand that held her sword shaking as she forgot about the battle. For the first time since Darkus had been taken, Lydia was terrified. Shaking herself of this newfound fear, Lydia sprang to her feet, impaling a nearby Mer soldier.

"Fight! Keep fighting!" she ordered as loud as she could muster, killing enemy after enemy as quickly as she could. If the beast was strong enough to make her _feel_ as if in danger, it was something she would need to be able to concentrate on without distraction when it appeared. She hacked and slashed as quickly and powerfully as she possibly could after so many hours of relentless battle, her blows barely managing to get through the armor.

"Fight for Skyrim!" Ulfric could be heard, blasting enemies apart with shouts and cleaving them with mighty swings one after another. He was truly a powerful man, but even he wouldn't be able to fight the Dominion and a Werewolf at the same time.

Lydia felt her armor cave inwards from a piercing spear thrust. Thankfully, it didn't go through her armor, and she quickly rounded on her attacker with a swing that cut his head in half. She cursed herself for being so stupid; and continued her assault on the Elves that surrounded her. The frost that escaped her mouth made her want to remember just how cold she was, but she refused to give in, and kept herself fixated on killing her foes. She could see many soldiers shaking from the cold, meeting their swift ends as the result.

After nearly twenty minutes, the beast whose roars echoed across the field of battle finally reared it's head. Lydia was surprised by how short the wolf was, only a little bit taller than she herself stood. The beast was accompanied by a black-furred Khajiit, who let out a war cry alongside it as the two charged into the battle. A few minutes later, another Khajiit and a tall man wielding a greatsword also entered. Finally, Lydia sensed Vale's Magicka as the Undead Siege Mage lifted her hand to the sky, calling a great wave of fire that shook the very ground and burned the nearby pines.

Out of instinct, Lydia lifted her shield to cover her entire body as she dropped to one knee, bracing against the impact of such raw magical fury. Everyone, friend and foe, were blasted off their feet, save for the few warriors and Wizards who understood well enough what was happening. Lydia rose to her feet to see the field of Elves beyond reduced to a plain of ash, the only survivors being the ones deemed too close to friendly lines to kill.

The men and women of Skyrim stood tall and proud, glaring at the force of Elves still much larger than them who stood staring back. Without so much as a warning, Lydia, in tandem with the Werebeast, and whom Lydia could only assume were the Dark Brotherhood Children, charged back into the enemy's lines, swinging her weapon with a newfound spirit and strength. Her enemies fell to her every move, and soon she was joined by her brothers and sisters of Windhelm, their need to survive and win carrying them past their injuries, their need to protect what they loved keeping them alive.

Lydia couldn't help but smirk to herself as she brought a Dominion mer to his knees, and swung downwards. Her kill was stolen from her, a wave of invisible telekinetic force throwing her, and all of her allies, back to the ground. She looked over to see a Dominion Mage, dressed in black and golden hooded robes, silver and purple lacing his hands.

"Yield, Humans of Skyrim!" the Man, not elf, demanded, making it very clear he was not taking prisoners. Lydia could see who it was, the very same man who had posed as Aventus Aretino, the man who taunted Darkus.

' _How had he grown so much more powerful?!'_ she asked herself, noticing how his skin was ash-colored, sunken in and wrinkled. _'Not more powerful; his power has just been fully unleashed!'_

With a snap of his fingers, the four men to Lydia's left exploded. They were reduced to a mushy pile of blood and guts, just like that. Four lives, four spirits snuffed out in an instant. His malevolent glare met Lydia's eyes, causing her to lift her shield up out of instinct and practice. The magic slammed into her like a wave of the sea, forcing her legs to nearly buckle under the immense strength and power behind it. Her shield crumbled into dust, having been eroded and dissolved by the magic it protected her from.

"To Oblivion with you, Undead bastard!" Vale screamed, concentrating a small ball of fire into two fingertips on her right hand. The Vampire looked terrified at first, but then just smiled.

"You _were_ here!" he cheered, molding a blast of Magicka in his hands. "I thought you had died long ago, Master!" without warning, the two Wizards unleashed their magicks, the mass of energies slamming into each other with such force that Lydia, standing twenty feet away, was sent flying off her feet.

"You disappoint me, Young Man." the Dark Elf told the human, twisting in strange patterns, firing a blast of lightning straight at the powerful Mage through the same two fingers as before. "I should not have spared you so long ago; a mistake I will correct now." the eyes of the Dunmer flashed blazing scarlet, as flames the color of blood encased her body and hands. The Mage before her was also engulfed by his magic, though he was eaten by Frost, and Water from wherever he could get it, and his body was extremely rigid.

"I'm not as weak as I was before, wretch," he announced, throwing a wave of magic at her, then suddenly disappearing from sight. Vale tanked the spell, spinning around instead to block the Wizard's next spell of Fire. "Taste my power!" still using only her two fingers, Vale stripped away the Mage's Magic, slamming her own Frost spell into his torso.

"I'm sorry, but this is for your own good." She stated, concentrating much of her Magicka into her index finger, which glowed with golden light. " _Aurora!_ " the beam of light hit the dirt as the Vampire quickly maneuvered out of the way.

" _Mortu Coeli!_ " the man grinned, calling forth a blast of Fire, Shock, and Frost, which slammed into Vale, and threw her into the air and across the field. Vale appeared completely enraged, her very stare causing the ground itself to set ablaze. She extended her arm, concentrated her magicka between her two palms, and shook with a large smile.

" _She isn't holding back on this one?!"_ Lydia screamed within her own mind, terrified by the power that even an old swordsman without any magical ability or knowledge could feel. "Vale if you throw that much power into your attack, the whole field will be obliterated!" realizing that the old Nord was right, Vale pointed her hands to the sky at the last moment, and unleashed her full power. The clouds parted as her spell passed through them and exploded.

"Fool." the Vampire warned, running Vale through with his bare hand. The Elf coughed out her own blood, her eyes wide and her mouth agape, the aura of fire vanishing completely a moment later. Vale grabbed his arm with tears in her eyes, trying to speak, but failing. He ripped his hand from her body, leaving her with a gaping hole in her left side. She reached for him, spluttering and growling noises of anger and pain.

* * *

Riaz slashed the throat of the last few Aldmeri soldiers on the battlefield. He fell to his knees, tired, cold, and exhausted, as he watched the Wolf form of Vala tear apart the warm bodies of men and women to get at the hearts that dwelled within. He looked at his blood-soaked hands, and chuckled to himself, tears falling down his face as he clenched his fists. No matter how many times he did it, no matter who it was, he hated to kill. He hated every fiber of his being that found it easy, and hated that he had so recklessly run into battle to kill anything that moved alongside his friend.

His sounds had roused the attention of the wolf, who snarled and growled with her blood-soaked maw as she approached him. He gave her a smile, and reached up to touch her face, which she acceptingly leaned into without a sound. The wolf circled him once, sat, and then laid down with her head in his lap. She fell asleep after a few minutes.

Riaz looked around the battlefield, finding Caro and his sister embracing in the middle of the field. The Half-Argonian had saved her from a few arrows, it seemed, as his armor had broken shafts sticking out of it, and even from where he was, he could hear his sister sobbing. He soon realized that Caro was in fact, holding Zassa off of the ground, and the two walked over after he had set her down.

"One great fight…" Caro laughed, slumping down in the snowy, bloody, dirt next to Riaz. "I'd wager I was able to kill at least twenty." Riaz looked grim. He had lost track of how many he had taken apart in the battle, he presumed it was somewhere around thirty or so. Vala had killed almost double what he had, with nothing but pure rage and brutality.

"Riaz is still a little sore," the Khajiit told his best friend, shifting a small bit to move Vala's head, lest she become angry or frightened in her sleep, and snap at something. He found blood on Vala's back, and noticed that she had been cut by something. It was healing relatively quickly, but it would heal better if she were conscious. "However, Riaz will heal from his injuries. Vala will hold hers forever." Caro's eyes were back to their normal blue hue, making Riaz wonder if he had been imagining things.

"I-I suppose so…" he said his eyes carrying the heavy weight of sadness. Zassa was the same, holding the same look, the same thought. She wrapped an arm around her brother, and the Werewolf form of Vala, and sighed.

"This one is too young to have suffered such an atrocity," she said in a bitter and vengeful tone. "Zassa has had many contracts where the older men have gotten very hands-on, but like every other one, Zassa has killed them for such thoughts." Riaz gulped.

"Older Sister, Zassa has not _ever_ been forced to do things like that by a man." he said in a small voice, unknowingly petting the mass of muscle that slept on his legs, who also seemed to be reverting back to her human form. "Where did Shrix end up?"

"She stayed behind, her leg was hurt pretty badly," Caro replied, the worry in his voice for his sibling evident in his even voice. "Our primary concern should be that massive amount of power." Riaz looked at him quizzically.

"What power?"

" _That_ power, the power that's been rocking the ground we walk and bleed on!" he announced, standing up to try and look farther into the distance. "Come on, can't you _feel_ it?!" Riaz shook his head.

"Riaz has no clue what this one speaks of; Riaz only feels the cold of Skyrim on his body." Riaz replied, watching his sister also stand with an odd expression. "Take a look if you need, Riaz will stay here and watch Vala." he pulled the torn up blanket he was using as a cloak from his back, and covered the half-transformed girl with it. Caro and Zassa nodded, heading towards the area of the field that the clouds were parting and swirling around.

Vala began to stir after a few minutes. To keep her from despair, Riaz cleaned her mouth from the blood that had settled on it as best as he could, though she was still bruised, cut and battered from what had happened hours before. Split lip, two black eyes, and many lashes from what Riaz knew from personal experience to be a whip of sorts. His hands shook with fury; one of his best friends was harmed and he couldn't do anything to help.

"Ugh, my… my everything hurts…" Vala's raspy voice weakly sounded off, waking Riaz from his apparent trance. She gave him a small grimace. "And I mean, _everything_ …" Riaz shared her frown for a minute, and opened his mouth to speak but found himself at a loss for words. "Where are we? Where is everyone else?"

"The middle of the battlefield." Riaz answered bluntly. "Shrix was injured and stayed back, and Sister and Caro followed to the battle. Riaz believes Vale did also, but he hasn't seen her since he and Vala entered the battle." Vala looked at the blood-soaked ground. Riaz grabbed her and pulled her upwards into a hug, which she winced because of, but accepted nonetheless. He suddenly felt a jarring pain as the werewolf prodded and poked at the deep gashes she had made in his back during her transformation. His back jerked forwards causing Vala to be thrown about a foot into the air, but land back on top of him anyways.

"I'm sorry! What happened to your back?!" she quickly begged, trying to get better look at the wounds through the Khajiit's fur. He winced the more she tried to look, because she was constantly trying to clear his fur away, accidentally hitting his open wounds every once in awhile.

"Riaz carried Vala when she transformed, and well…" he began, jumping up onto his feet when Vala pulled the flesh apart to look deeper into his wound. "FUCK!" Vala fell on her ass in the snow, the blanket that covered her falling away, and revealing the actual amount of damage she had suffered. She quickly covered herself with the blanket, her usual pale skin red with embarrassment. "Sorry…"

"Don't be, it wasn't your fault," the girl responded in a hollow tone, shakily standing while holding the blanket tight to her. "We should move, find out what that strange power is." Riaz made a sound like an annoyed housecat.

"What power are Vala and the rest talking about?!" he asked, his back hunched over to try and lessen his pain. "First Caro, then Zassa, and now Vala! Riaz has no idea what anyone's talking about!" Vala's brow raised. "What?"

"How can you _not_ feel that, Riaz?" she asked, beginning to walk in the direction Caro and Zassa had gone a small while ago, though she stumbled and nearly fell every few steps. Riaz wrapped her arm around his neck and supported her as the two walked at a slow pace to where the few soldiers still standing seemed to be paralyzed. "It has to be Vale, right? She's the only person we know that's powerful in magic."

"Riaz knows Vale is strong with magic, but Riaz can feel _nothing_." the Khajiit replied as the two came upon Caro and Zassa who were stood like statues in the field. "Caro, Sister, what is-?" as the two stood next to the second pair, Vala let out a small scream. Riaz looked straight ahead to an awful sight.

Vale was coughing blood, lying on the ground with her body contorted in painful looking shapes, and a hole in her abdomen. The man, or the creature that looked like a man, was the person that destroyed the inn, the one that tried to kill Shrix. His arm was coated in a thick layer of blood, and his face contorted into a mad grin. He was laughing.

" _Perdere_ " Vale murmured, a blast of fire shooting from her fingertips and throwing the man backwards several feet. He looked over at her with shock marking his features as Vale slowly got back to her feet, holding her intestines and guts in her body, her magic the only thing healing her enough to keep her alive. Her eyes, bright scarlet and dead to light, stared directly into the Mage's eyes with an expression of raw fury. "Now you've done it. I gave you a chance, I let you live so you could better yourself, and now, after all this time…" she began, walking closer to him. "You've tried to kill me?! You've taken advantage of everything I've given you… you fucking piece of _imp_ trash! _Lux Arorae!"_ the blast of pure white light from her index finger slammed into the man's body, and for a moment nothing happened.

"Argh! Please!" The man screamed in agony, reaching his hand up. Vale kicked it down, and stomped on his hand hard enough to break his bones. A few minutes later he was foaming from his mouth, and his chest exploded, splattering blood everywhere. Vale subsequently fell to her knees and began violently coughing blood, Riaz and the others running to her side immediately.

"Fucker should've given up when he had the chance…" she said, the golden light in her hand finally sealing the wound completely and then dissipating. "Though I shouldn't have let my guard down. He was stronger than I would've thought, but he was still no match for me. Well, if I had not been injured, maybe."

"What do you mean?" Caro asked her, as Vale looked to a specific spot in the sky. As everyone looked where she had, a portal opened and the man walked back through it. He was thoroughly injured, but he was still in much better shape than Vale.

"You over-estimate your ability, Master!" he laughed, holding out his hand, a ball of light appearing upon his palm. He slowly floated downwards, throwing almost every person who stood around Vale away with a wave of kinetic force. Only Vale and Riaz remained within the circle the blast had created. The man walked forwards at a pace almost slow to Riaz's perception, a large smile upon his face, his hand unwavering. "Now, you-"

" _Morietur_." a deep voice growled from nowhere, stopping the man in his tracks. After a moment of the Vampire looking around, a hand covered in blackened smoke thrust through his chest, throwing the Mage onto the ground. The Mage coughed, and stood with a look of confusion.

"You-! You're here!" the Vampire barked with a mad grin, looking in every which direction. "Where? Where are you?! Where have you gone, you bastard?!" he was thrown to the side by a spectral being of Darkness, one unseen to the mortal eye. Though it didn't seem to have damaged him too terribly, the Mage would not be able to last forever. "Damn you!"

"What happened?" Riaz asked Vale, who was lying on the ground. The Vampire grabbed his shoulder and attempted to lift herself off of the ground, but failed almost immediately and fell back to the snow. Riaz leaned over to help, but instead of taking his hand, the Dunmer grabbed the top of his head, and forced it into her chest. _"Really?"_ he asked her in his head, struggling to get her off.

"I'm unsure," she told him, holding him steady without effort. "It _feels_ familiar, but it's much different… it's darker, more menacing…" Riaz rolled his eyes, finally wresting his maw free.

"Riaz cannot sense what you do." he explained to the woman who was now more or less balancing on his head. "This one saw the black hand, yes?" Vale shook her head, a confused expression gracing what he could see of her features. "A black hand extended outward from the man's chest, did Vale not see?"

"No, I didn't see it!" she barked in his ear, slapping the side of his head rather hard. The enemy kept throwing spells and punches in random directions, hitting nothing but the random soldiers that dared get close, and the sky and dirt. After a few more minutes of this, a blackened figure appeared, a dark aura, almost smoke appearing, circling and swirling around it. Save for the bright scarlet orb that pierced the lack of light.

"There you are!" the Vampire exclaimed, firing a wave of fire at the being. The shadow stepped through the flames unharmed, and pressed towards the Mage who fired blast after blast of powerful magicks at it. "Damn you, just die!" the Vampire moved as if imitating the form of a Martial Art, his hands spinning and concentrating Magicka into a powerful blast of Blood Magic. The Shadow held out its arm, catching the blast and deflecting it outwards.

"It is time to fall," the shadow spoke, staring into the eyes of the Vampire without an ounce of fear. The only things that the eye portrayed were rage and malice. The two mimicked each other's movements, getting closer and closer together. "Now die."

The two released blasts of magic almost too powerful to be real. The Vampire roared with fury as his own spell was pressed back by the shadow's, stripping the flesh from the man's bones without relent. The Shadow's spell burned dark blue, disappearing after bringing the man to his knees.

"How…" the man asked, unable to stand back up. He looked back at the shadow, who swiftly swung its arm in a horizontal motion, completely decapitating the Vampire. Before anyone could even see what happened, the shadow burned the body to nothing, leaving no trace that the man ever existed.

"You were nothing compared to us." the shadow answered long after the man was gone. The shadow turned to the crowd of surrounding people, man, mer, and beast alike. Without warning, the shadow attacked the Aldmeri Soldiers, slaughtering the lot of them before any of the Windhelm men had taken up arms again. Once the battle had died down, and every person who still lived had settled, the Shadow disappeared.

What, or rather, who, was left in its stead stood Darkus. He was beaten, scarred, bloodied, and held the look of a man underfed. Thick dried blood covered the entire left side of his face, as well as part of his arm. The odd angles within several points of his body suggested that he had some terribly broken bones. After he caught glimpse of Lydia, he fell to his knee.

"Darkus!" the Nord called, throwing her blade to the side and running over to catch the weakened teenager. She cleared his face and looked at him with tears in her eyes.

"Hey Lydia, it's been awhile, huh?" he asked, giving her a small grin.

* * *

Hours later, Darkus stood in his room, looking at his reflection in the mirror. The scar that stretched from his hairline, down just past his cheekbone. His eye remained shut, as he could not bring himself to open it for fear of not recognizing himself. He fitted the black leather patch over his eye tightly, got dressed, and walked down to the Main Hall.

Shrix was being held in the Windhelm dungeons for the murder of an Officer, one that many of the soldiers in the camp were unsure about. Darkus knew however, as soon as he saw her being dragged to the city by armed Stormcloaks, he knew something was not right. Vala was not her usual self, nor Riaz his own self. No one seemed to be themselves, and Darkus wanted to know why.

"Your eye, boy," Ulfric's voice boomed through the hall as Darkus knelt to the High King. Darkus gulped.

"Gone, my Lord," he lied, waiting for the King to speak further. "Apologies, but why has my comrade been arrested and placed in the dungeons, while your guards do Gods know what to her?" the High King stiffened at his question, as if offended the boy would even ask that. "She is a woman, and a Half-Argonian, after all." the children of the Dark Brotherhood, as well as Lydia, and the two heirs to Ulfric's throne gaped at Darkus, as if his words themselves had parted the King of his heart.

"How dare you accuse such things of my people? How dare you defend a _murderer_?" he asked, the hall shaking from his apparent fury. The King stood up and walked closer to Darkus and Lydia.

"How dare you imprison a woman for a crime she did not commit?" he retorted, standing to meet the High King. Darkus was no longer polite to Ulfric, the man who demanded respect without ever even uttering the word, and instead stood challenging him.

"That woman admitted to killing Captain Snow-Breth, and will be dealt with as such!" the King barked, commanding Darkus to stand down. Darkus would not; his pride too much to allow him.

"I saw what happened, she admitted to _killing_ your man, but she never confessed to _murder_!" he bit back, forcing the old man to take a few steps. "When she begged to allow her version of the truth be told, you sent her away! Like you had the Argonians, Khajiit, and Elves nearly twenty years ago!" Ulfric's fury looked beyond rational thought, as the man swung at Darkus with an open fist, which the boy caught without flinching. "Maybe if you listened to people, misunderstandings wouldn't happen as they had. Vala," he turned to the shaken Nord.

"Yes?" she asked, not looking him in the eye.

"What forced Shrix to act upon herself and kill a Captain?" he asked her, already knowing the answer by how the girl tensed. "Surely a woman of her training and discipline would know better, yes?" Riaz and the rest nodded with her.

"Shrix became… enraged…" was all the poor girl spoke, in a tone so empty it nearly killed Darkus to hear it spoken. Vale, who had been able to recover extraordinarily well, stood up with a look of rage upon her features.

"Shrix killed your man because he dared lay a vile finger upon Vala!" she announced, her disgust laced within every word that coarsely escaped her lips. Ulfric did not like the tone the Vampire spoke in, but was obviously terrified of her because of how powerful she had shown herself capable of.

"I will pay a fine, however, she will face no jail time whatsoever." Darkus said, already scratching at the leather patch absent of mind. The King looked reluctant to do as the young man said, mostly because he was a boy, and the King was a King. "Name the price, and I'll pay it."

"No. No price is sufficient to replace a man such as Snow-Breth. The prisoner will have to fight in the Pit." he informed Darkus and the rest, the words chilling Darkus to the bone. "That is all I can do for her."

"Fight in the Pit, or rot in prison are her only options?" he asked the King, who, along with his wife, nodded. "Will you permit me to take her place?" Ulfric shook his head. "Then allow me to properly train her. Shrix can stand her ground in a one on one battle, but she will die where she's fighting."

"You ask permission to ensure the woman's victory?" Ulfric's wife inquired of him, standing up to move closer. Darkus nodded.

"I didn't keep her alive all this time just to let her die now," he told the woman. "Either I take her place, or you allow me to train her." he then took a step closer, before Caro or any of the others could give input and get in trouble as well. "Those are the only options." Ulfric, with a disdainful look, nodded. "Return her weapons to her at once, then."

"You push your luck, Darkus!" Lydia whispered, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him back.

"I'll need to train her with the proper weapons, and the blade bestowed upon me was in her possession," Darkus told Lydia, as well as Ulfric. "She will bring that blade into the Pit with her." Ulfric, with a grunt this time, again nodded.

"However, she must remain under lock and key in your quarters until after the day," Ulfric commanded. "She must be bound by rope, or in chains as the day ends. You may go retrieve her."

"Then I will leave at once." with that, the boy turned towards the Barracks and went down to the Prison, where several guards were standing at Shrix's cell, and many malnourished prisoners set their gaze.

"Hold, boy!" a woman in guard's armor ordered, placing her hand upon his chest. "What business have you down here?"

"The Thane comes for a prisoner, the woman in that cell." he replied in an even tone. The woman nodded, walking over to the group of men, and hitting the back of one's head to clear them of the way. She opened the door, and motioned for Darkus to enter.

"Why has my door been opened, guard?" Shrix's voice came from within. Darkus walked mostly into her view, hiding his face subconsciously. "By Sith- By the Gods!"

"Yeah, I'm sorry I didn't come to see you sooner," he apologized as she sprang up from where she sat and hugged him tightly. He supposed she hadn't seen anyone except those men since her imprisonment. "Guard, her belongings. And a pair of shackles and their keys."

"My equipment? Shackles?" she questioned him, Darkus covering her mouth a moment later.

"I'm going to train you as much as I can before you're condemned to the Pit, like all these other prisoners." he told her, taking the steel cuffs from the woman, as well as their keys. "I've been ordered to keep you under lock and key the entire time." Shrix raised an eyebrow.

"You know I can escape these measly things, right?" she chuckled, receiving a blank expression from him. Her eyes widened as they fell upon the patch and scar, her mouth agape, at a loss of words.

"Yeah, I was hurt pretty badly on the boat. When the torturer swung at me with a blade, it cauterized the wound." he told her, motioning for her to follow him as he bound her arms together and had her carry her equipment. "My Lycanthropic healing was also slowed down a good deal, so the eye didn't heal as you obviously think it should have." he led her into the Hall, and stopped. "I'll explain more after you've gotten a chance to speak with your friends."

"Explain more?" she asked a moment after he had taken her stuff and walked to his room. When he returned a few minutes later, Shrix was sitting down in a chair talking with Vala in a teary voice. Darkus could hear that she was apologizing to the Nord, but Vala would have none of it. She was just glad Shrix was safe and alive. Shrix patted Riaz's back after she learned that he escorted Vala through the battlefield, the action of which caused him great pain as his wounds had only just healed.

"Careful Shrix!" Caro called, him and Vala attempting to get him off of the ground, while Vale and Zassa just watched with amusement. Riaz roared in pain, rolling around while Vala put her hand over his mouth to keep him quiet, and Caro attempted to find a way to pick him up without causing him further harm. "You watched a Werewolf tear into his skin, and you still slapped him on the back?!"

"Yeah, what the fuck?!" Riaz asked in a teary voice.

"It's been a week, excuse me for thinking he'd gone to see a healer!" Shrix barked at the two, crossing her arms with a furrowed brow. Caro and Riaz both had the same expression of disbelief on their faces.

"No!" they said in unison, Riaz finally lifting himself up.

"The Healer was too busy trying to help Lydia, myself, and Darkus when he appeared on the battlefield." Vale explained with a shrug, slapping Riaz on the back to watch him crumble back to the floor, cursing and growling. "For some reason, Darkus didn't heal enough on his own during the time he was in the Dominion's custody."

"As I mentioned before," Darkus interrupted. "There was a New moon, and another Full Moon. My bindings were enchanted to hold me, so when I transformed, I only injured myself more severely." the group was looking at his left eye, something that was already pissing him off. "Anyways, Shrix and I should really get started. She goes into the Pit at the end of the week; that's five days."

"About the Pit, what is it?" Shrix asked him, standing up to follow him should he decide to move. "I know I have to fight to the death to escape, but so what? I've done it before." Darkus shook his head.

"You're not going to be in a two on one fight, or something like that." he explained, using his fingers to represent his words. "It's going to be an all on all battle, all twenty prisoners against one another until one is left standing. You've been in hairy fights, five enemies I think was the worst though. These guys will see you as a weakling, and will prey on you because you're smaller than they are." she gave him an angry glare as the two began to walk. "It isn't because you're a woman, Shrix. It's because these men and women are literally double your size in muscle and height."

"Hey, I'm not that short!" she said, as he stopped two stairs below her, and still looked directly over her head without any effort.

"You're shorter than me by a head. These guys are bigger than I am by about half of our height difference." he told her, continuing to his room. He opened the door and let her in, taking the cuffs off of her. "Hurry up and get dressed, we start now." Shrix nodded, and got her armor on, drew Darkus' sword, and waited for him to do something similar. She looked surprised when he pulled a Wooden Practice sword off of a rack, and walked back to the courtyard in front of the palace.

"Why are we training out here?!" she asked, already shivering from the cold.

"Because; it's an open area. The Pit won't be as open, but it will be similar to this place." he said with a shrug. She was silent for several seconds, until the sword clanged against the ground.

"You just don't want to break anything, don't-"

"Yeah, I don't want to break anything." he interrupted, swinging the wooden weapon at her at a moderate speed. She deflected the strike, and slammed her empty hand into Darkus' chest. Darkus took the blow and kneed her abdomen. "Don't punch with your open hand. Hit with the weapon; it'll put more power into your strike, and you could potentially cut your enemy with the blade." Shrix nodded, however, repeated the same action the next time Darkus swung.

"Sorry, I'm just used to how my mother taught me to wield a dagger." she said, taking her stance again to prepare for Darkus' next swing. He shrugged, swinging hard, hitting her left arm hard enough to draw blood. "Fuck!"

"You aren't fighting with a dagger. You're fighting with a Longsword." he told her, throwing another fast strike, which she was unable to block. She staggered back, lost her balance, and fell on her ass. "When you hit in a swordfight, hit with the sword. An open hand gets broken."

"Noted." she grunted, getting back on her feet. Darkus swung again, and this time Shrix was able to deflect it. She threw her fist forwards, sword in hand, and Darkus sidestepped her attack.

"Good. Now chain it together." he complemented, hitting the back of her head with the wooden hilt lightly. "If someone does this, spin around to the right and swing the blade with all your strength." he did the motion to demonstrate for her exactly how to achieve the hit. "Do it too fast, and you miss your target; too slow and you die instead. You need to hit it perfectly."

"So, I'll die if I do anything but perfect?" she asked, an obviously irritated tone to her voice.

"No, there is a small window of time where you can swing without cause for too much concern." he explained, hitting her yet again with the wooden blade. "If you get hurt, it's nothing too serious. Death is something that cannot be reversed. Just fight through the pain." she looked at the ground.

"Before… The others said something about you 'keeping me alive all this time'," she started as the training went on, her grip tightening around the hilt of her weapon. She took a swing at him, which he blocked, rolled around, and swung to counter. She spun around like he'd told her, and blocked his strike. "What were they talking about?"

"I haven't the slightest," he replied with a smile, impressed by her automatic adaptation. "Though, I suppose I could tell you something important later tonight." he swung the his weapon to her back, which she didn't block, and she fell flat onto her face, the weapon escaping her grasp. "Drop your weapon and you're dead."

"Maybe don't just hit me at random moments!" she barked, getting on her elbows. "In the Pit, I'll be fighting at all times, but up here I'm training!" he grabbed her by the back of her collar and hauled her up, holding her just inches away.

"Take the two as separate things, and you are dead." he murmured, throwing her backwards, causing her to stumble a small bit and fall back down. She grabbed the sword and stood back up with an odd expression, one that made Darkus curious about what she was looking at in such a way. If he were a complete idiot, he would've assumed that she was staring at something behind him, but he knew that she was looking at him. "Let's keep going, unless of course, your arms are too sore." Shrix tried to swing at him, but he easily knocked the weapon from her hands. "Alright, too tired it is."

"Shut up, I'm fine!" she breathed, reaching over to grab the sword despite the painful shaking in her arms and legs. Darkus took her hands and locked them in the cuffs he was given, then began leading her back to the room. "I said I was fine!"

"I don't care what you say; if you can't move, if you can't even hold the sword, you are going to die," he stated, opening the door and letting her free after they were inside. He dropped everything he had in his hands, and took a fur blanket from the mattress. "You can have the bed, I'll stay on the floor."

"But aren't you still healing?" she asked when Darkus pulled his armor off, which made his still open wounds visible. He shrugged.

"It'll be done by tomorrow morning." he told her, laying down on top of the fur. "We'll train until the day before you go into the Pit. You'll get a chance to rest that way." she walked over to him, placing her hands on his back. This caused him to shudder and tense because of the pain it caused him. "Okay, okay, or you could not do that."

"Well then, sleep in the bed." she started, looking at each of the new individual wounds he had sustained. "Why haven't any of these healed? Some of them are as old as the night you were captured…" he looked back at her, only for a moment, but from how her fingers curled into fists he could tell she saw it. "You said you'd been 'keeping me alive all this time', what did you mean?"

"I told you before, I have no-"

"Bullshit," she interrupted, forcing her thumb into one of the larger cuts, causing him to jump straight up almost a foot into the air. "From what I know about you, you wouldn't say something like that for no reason!" Darkus gulped, but nodded.

"Okay, it… may have some merit…" he murmured, sitting down on his bed, Shrix sitting next to him. "I suppose I _did_ heal you once or twice… or maybe four times…" she gave him a grateful, yet angered look. "Whenever you got badly hurt, I concentrated my Magicka to give you a small boost in strength, and to heal you. Of course, by doing this I sacrificed my own healing and strength. It's Alteration Magic, I think, part of my training from a few years back." Shrix looked completely confused. "I altered the reality of me being healed, and had your body heal instead. To put it simply; yes, I kept you alive."

"But why did you do it?" she inquired as he slowly fell back onto the soft blankets. "Why keep me alive when it caused you harm?" Darkus let out a small grunt as he tried to position himself more comfortably.

"It's not like I won't heal within a few moments of my injuries anyways. Besides, what would have been the point of saving your life in the first place if you were only gonna die a couple months later?" he replied, still trying to find a comfortable position on the bed. He then sat up, and grabbed her arm, pulling the sleeve of her shirt up past her shoulder.

"What the fuck?!"

"Be quiet, I'm not getting comfortable any time soon," he interrupted, tracing the dark scales that covered her deltoids and outside of her bicep and triceps, as well as a small line down to her wrist with his fingers. She glared at him with purple cheeks, as if he were some weird stranger. "Your skin is really smooth… you think I could maybe lay on top of your arm?" she pulled her arm from his grip.

"No! What are you, an idiot?!" she barked, slapping him across the face hard enough to turn his head to the side. She had gotten much stronger during the battle.

"I figured the Histskin you were inherently born with has to have _some_ measure of external effect. Either way, the blankets and stuff get into my wounds, makes it really painful and uncomfortable." he told her as he massaged the red hand-print she had left on his cheek. "Your arm and scales are smooth and soft, I figured it would feel better to lay on than fur or hay."

"You're asking me to sleep with you!" she informed him as he covered his wounds with her arm, and fell back onto the bed again, this time pulling her with him.

"Yeah, I'm fully aware of what I asked you," he started, yawning as Shrix's smooth flesh was much better than the bed. He found, after a few moments, that Shrix was actually much colder than a normal human. "Hey… are you cold-blooded or something?"

"N-no, I just… don't retain a whole lot of body heat after the sun goes down. It's why my armor has a resist Frost Enchantment on each piece." she told him in a whispered tone, as she was only a few inches away from him.

"I could always pull a blanket over us, it would be warmer." he suggested with a shrug, doing what he said as he spoke. Shrix looked a little protestant at first, but eventually settled down from her vain battle.

"How did this happen?" he heard her groan, in an almost teary voice.

"Quit your complaining, you'd be surprised to find that I'm extremely warm compared to most people on Nirn." Darkus replied, in an annoyed voice. He eventually let out a small chuckle. "I haven't slept well for a long time; I've been awake for about two days this time… Wonder what it will feel like to wake up moderately rested for a change." with that, he closed his eyes and drifted into a deep slumber.

He stood alone in a dark room, only a small amount of light from what appeared to be a deck of a ship seemed to illuminate part of it. He looked around, at himself, finding that he was wearing only his pants and a pair of dark leather boots. He held no weapon, no paper, no gold, no items at all, in fact. His arms held familiar scars, both old and knew, as did his abdomen and chest. He knew it was him, but he felt _off_ , as if he wasn't completely there. The gleam of a steel dagger caught his eye, which he could see was stabbed into a table. He walked over to it and drew it from its wooden sheath, and put it to his palm, drawing it painfully and slowly over his hand.

The wound bled without pause, leaving a large puddle on the table. His wound wouldn't close, his bleeding wouldn't cease. He looked around for several minutes, until he finally tore a piece of cloth from the silken tapestry that hung in the room. As soon as he had tied it around his hand to stop the bleeding, he could see better. The room looked old and uninhabited, the snow on the floor indicating that it was, in fact, cold where he stood.

"A strange place to you, I suppose." he heard a more rugged version of his voice echo from a darkened corner. He narrowed his eyes, and smelled the air, finding his senses were dulled terribly. "Don't bother." he could see the distinct amber glow from the shadows, as the man began to move.

"You're… me?" he asked the figure, who walked within arms reach of him. Though it was unmistakably his twin, this man was taller by a few inches. His muscles were larger, his body thicker, his hair longer, and his jaw was more square. "But how?" the man laughed, his tone gravely and wolfish. It felt familiar.

"You don't recognize me?" the man asked, showing him his toothy grin. "Of course you don't recognize me, you've never been here before." Darkus was taken aback by the man's immature tone, only for a moment. "Ah, there we go."

"You're the Wolf…" Darkus said, unable to stop himself. He grinned and nodded.

"Good, we aren't a complete idiot after all," the Wolf laughed, raising his hands in a sarcastic manner. Darkus didn't like the tone the Wolf spoke with, it didn't bode well at any other time in his life. Darkus groaned, and dropped to the floor.

"You're not-?"

"No! No! I swear!" the Wolf replied sincerely, before scratching his chin. "Though… I can still smell what's on the 'outside'... er, never mind… point is, I'm a healthy teenager, and-" Darkus threw a punch, and hit the Wolf hard in the jaw, knocking him on the floor.

"I swear to the Divines! If you mess with _my_ body while Shrix is there, I _will_ kill us both!" he barked, slamming his forehead against Wolf's. The Wolf nodded and made sure he was submissive to Darkus. "You didn't bring me here to challenge my rule of _my_ body and mind, did you?"

"It WAS my original plan, yes, but I can see that it was not well thought out…" he replied in a murmur. "Anyways, we have a bit of a problem." Darkus groaned, sitting in a chair that had not existed behind him before.

"What kind of problem?" he inquired, resting his chin in his hand.

"Well, for starters, that Alteration Magic Whispering Fang shit you keep pulling is completely destroying our healing abilities." he replied, lifted upwards by another chair forming underneath him. "Our wounds will heal, but as it stands, nearly half of our power was transferred to her. Since she doesn't know how to use it, and since she's not a Werewolf, _and_ since she's Argonian, she completely expunges it as soon as it's used!"

"I know, I actually planned for that." Darkus muttered, waiting for the nightmare to be over. "Wait, shouldn't you have been able to tell?"

"Well, normally yes, but because you keep transferring our power to her, my senses have dulled considerably." he replied, summoning a chunk of raw meat and looking at it as if it had insulted him. "Dammit, I wanted this cooked…" he tore into it like the starved dog he was, and finished it within a few minutes. "Anyways, what you're doing… it's not great for either of us."

"I know," Darkus sighed, standing up and going to the door. "What in Oblivion is this place? Where are we?" the Wolf shrugged. "What do you mean 'you don't know'?"

"I don't know, alright? Usually I'm in a deep forest, but I don't have a damn clue what this place is!" he exclaimed, his anger apparent in the amber glow that rolled through his eyes. "I'm kinda pissed off here, I wanna run through the bush!" he looked at the insignia on what looked to be the cabin's door, which was Hircine's mark, and his shoulders drooped. "This must be my cabin, then… I don't get to live in your world all the time, and I'm pretty much a prisoner in your soul, right? So what does the father of the Hunt do? He frees us by allowing us to live freely in our own world. Of course, it's only a small amount of the glorious Hunting Grounds of Hircine's realm. Anyways, I have a cabin to live in, though I never have gone to it…"

"Why not?" Darkus asked with a sigh.

"Why would I spend my time inside when I could just relax in the warm sand?"

"Fair enough." he decided, pulling on the door, and pinching himself to wake up. "So, can I go back now?" the Wolf gave him an odd look.

"Of course, talk to you whenever, Darkus." he replied, waving as Darkus' vision blackened. He opened his eye to find himself looking directly into Shrix's, who it seemed had gotten a lot closer to him through the night. He supposed, he was rather warm, and the room was rather cold. She immediately jumped backwards into the stone wall just behind his bed.

"'Morning," Darkus yawned as he got out of bed and put his gear back on for the next day of training. Shrix had covered herself with the blanket, as if she were wearing nothing, and covered her reddening face. Darkus didn't even have to look to know. He grumbled, and finished getting his armor and weapons before calling Shrix over to do the same, and so he could cuff her again for moving to the courtyard. He realized that it would be a long five days.


	12. Chapter 12: Dragonsouls

Shrix ducked under a swing from her left as her sword bounced off her second opponent's sword. She had been fighting in the Pit for what seemed like several hours, dodging and strafing away from any opponent she could, working her way through the stages to escape. She was at the third stage, where almost three times as many prisoners waited to fight and kill each other in the most deadly and sadistic ways possible. She was suddenly very grateful to Darkus for training her, and angry with herself for getting into this situation in the first place.

A sharp pain ripped through her side as a mace slammed into her, causing her to let out an angered hiss. She quickly spun into the attack to deliver a devastating blow to two of her opponents, decapitating them without restraint. She then blocked the next strike from her remaining opponent and ran the blade through his chest to its hilt before drawing it again. She could see various men and women of various muscular variety fighting brutally to the death and moving on once one of their enemies were slain.

' _Move!'_ a voice screamed at her in the depths of her mind, allowing her to narrowly avoid a swing from a tall woman who held a spear. Shrix was startled by the voice because it wasn't her own and she had never heard anything like it before. She cut the spear in half before slashing the woman's throat and moving on. Her breathing was hoarse and heavy; she was already tired. _'Slow and weak; Us fast and strong!'_ Shrix fell onto her knees in a coughing fit, clawing at her chest to relieve the pain. By doing this, she subconsciously avoided being cut in half by another opponent. When she regained her sense of danger, she stabbed the new opponent in the chest and accidentally lost her grip on the sword.

Shrix suddenly felt very cold when she took the blade in her hands and wrenched it from the corpse. Her body shook from the disgusting feeling that grew in the pit of her stomach. She stumbled backwards when another sword bounced off of her scaled cheekbone, drawing only a small amount of blood. This opponent was moving in almost slow motion to her, but she knew better than to trust her sight after such a prolonged fight. When she decided which way this man was going to swing, Shrix stepped out of his way and slashed his stomach open. She then fell over wondering what would happen if she died in that fight.

' _Damn it…'_ she cursed to herself. _'Even after everything… I'm not good enough. Darkus can't save me this time; not down here.'_ she forced herself to stand up again though she could barely feel the sword in her hands. _'Even if he did help me, it wouldn't feel right.'_

' _Then what about us?'_ the voice asked her, getting closer and closer as it talked. _'We could win!'_ Shrix's arm moved quickly upward without her telling it to, blocking the strike of another enemy and tearing the muscles in Shrix's left shoulder. Shrix could feel the fibres start to stitch themselves back together after a few moments.

"Did Darkus still help me-?" she gasped when the pain in her arm subsided.

' _No! No! Not him; us!'_ the voice barked at her angrily, moving her body away from the fight as much as possible for her. _'We will keep us alive! Just let us take over!'_ Shrix immediately declined as the last enemy she could see fell dead upon her blade.

"I can't do that…" she told herself as the voice became drowned out by her heartbeat. The feeling the voice gave her disappeared with the voice as well. "I have no choice but… to win on… my own…" she felt herself drop onto the dirt thoroughly exhausted from the extensive hours of stressful battle, and then moments later be hauled up by someone she couldn't see, get dragged through a freezing cold stone corridor and get placed in a small holding cell. After almost two hours, the doors opened to allow someone draped in a large cloak entry.

"Here, take this before the guards send you back out there." Darkus commanded, holding out a small clear bottle with a green liquid settling on the inside. Shrix realized it was alchemy after a few moments of staring lifelessly at it. She must've been doing it for a long time, because the next thing she knew Darkus was holding her chin up so he could pour the bottle's contents down her throat.

"What was that?" she asked him drearily, feeling the potion take effect almost immediately after its consumption. Feeling came back to her fingers and she felt full of energy again. Darkus was looking more wolfish than usual in his outfit of dark furs.

"Something Lydia made for you yesterday morning," he replied as he took a seat next to her on the bench. He gave her another bottle; this one filled with red liquid. "Drink some and pour the rest on your external wounds. It'll make you feel better while your body heals itself." Shrix did as he instructed and felt relief the instant she applied it to her body.

"Thank you, friend." she sighed in a happier tone. "How long has it been since I went in?" Darkus looked at the ground grimly. "Nine hours? Ten?"

"Seven." he interrupted, watching her closely with his one eye. "I'm considering joining you in there, if not only to keep Caro from doing it, but to also keep you safe." Shrix groaned when he explained the situation. "I'm not happy about it either, but you have a serious problem right now. At the end of the Pit, there's a prisoner who's been there for several years to keep the others from escaping. He's taller than me by almost two feet; built like an Orc Warchief with all the speed and strength of a Saber Cat."

"Sounds like you admire him…" she murmured, forgetting he could hear her no matter how low she spoke.

"I've met him several times in my life and witnessed his monstrous capabilities second-hand." Darkus told her, the tone in his voice shifting into something menacing. "He killed several of the guards I had been working with. I watched it happen, and could only revelle the challenge." his look made her assume that he had agreed with her in the end.

"Alright, so what can I possibly do against that kind of person?" she inquired, feeling her muscles stiffen up a little bit. Darkus pulled a small dagger out of his coat.

"I'll either have to buy you out of the pit, which isn't an option, or you have to fight him. As it stands, he'll slaughter you." he replied, quickly drawing the knife across his forearm to open a large and deep gash. Shrix immediately sprang backwards against the wall.

"Holy Divines!" she cried, wondering if she should grab something to stop the bleeding, or wait to see why he had done such a thing. The former ended up winning her over, as she grabbed the hem of her shirt and wrapped his arm in it. He almost effortlessly pulled her off of him and took up a small cylindrical vial he had been keeping in his coat as well. She watched as he let his blood fall into the crystal before sealing it.

"It's a terrible fate to be like me, Shrix," he remarked, holding out the vial for her to take. "You will have to spend your life fending off ferals and resisting the urge to tear the hearts out of any humanoid you come across. You will never have a goodnight's sleep again, and food won't taste the same as it had before. But you'll become strong enough to kill this man and survive the pit." Shrix looked from the bottle to Darkus before letting it slip through her fingers and shatter on the ground. The two stared at each other for a few seconds."I respect your decision, Shrix. I will be watching-"

"Don't help me while I'm in there please." she requested, cutting him off. "I want to fight and win by myself." he nodded in understanding and stood up to leave when she suddenly thought of something to ask him. "One more thing before you go-"

"Yes?" he turned before he reached the door, leaning against the wall to listen.

"When I was down there earlier, right at the end," she started, gulping and looking down at her previously hurt arm. "I heard some sort of voice. It was gruff and angry sounding, but it felt like I could trust it, something that made me even more cautious. What was the voice I heard?" Darkus narrowed his eye and glanced over to the wall behind her. He knew exactly what she was talking about.

"It was me, in a way." he answered without looking back at her. "Since I was born a Werewolf, my personality is sort of… split…" he crossed his arms and his face contorted into an expression of concentration. "I constantly hear the wolf inside my head, telling me to kill, hunt, and so on. When I used Magic to heal you during the time I was captured, I was using Alteration Magic. I stripped the advanced healing my Beast Blood gave me away and sent it to you instead. In other words, I gave you some of my power by accident. But it isn't enough and completely exhausts itself when you try to tap into it." Shrix stared at him with both shock and confusion.

"So I'm a Werewolf?"

"Not at all; you just have powers like one." he assured her. "You need to let it flow, even if by accident. Whatever you do, do not consciously let the power take over. If it does, I will have to step in and stop you." he then looked out into the corridor for a moment and moved closer to her to speak in a lowered tone. "You don't have the disease; not unless I scratched you in my wolf form, or you drank my blood by accident." his last comment made her feel moderately better. He then left the room without warning, forcing her to wait for another ten minutes before the guard came back to escort her back into the Pit for another match. She was still permitted to carry the sword Darkus had given her, thankfully, so at least she had that advantage. Or so she thought.

The Pit must have run out of prisoners, as she was standing in the middle of the room almost completely alone. On her left was a strong man; his arms as thick as his legs with muscle. He was a little bit taller than her, with light red hair and a strong, ugly face. To her right, there was a crazed looking Elf-girl, pale bronze skin and sharp red eyes watching everything with paranoia bordering on madness. The woman was extremely frail looking, except for her menacing disgusting smile. Shrix thought that perhaps that was why she was killed first. As soon as they were allowed to fight, the girl was crushed under a massive warhammer.

The man who had done it was exactly what Darkus had described to her. The man was at least two and a half feet taller than she was. His hair was matted and ragged, covered in an Iron helmet that had sharpened horns on it, giving his stone-like features a more barbaric look. Each of his arms were larger than Shrix's legs, and his torso cast a shadow over her and the other man even in the darkness of the Pit. The warhammer he carried was easily the size of Shrix's head, and the strength he had to have had to wield it would be enough to tear her to pieces.

' _Then again,'_ she thought to herself, taking a moment to try to settle her heart. _'Darkus is stronger than that.'_ she gripped the blade tighter, waiting to see what she could possibly do against an opponent like him. Before she had a chance to move, the monster had already smashed the other man to pieces. She didn't even register the movement until it had already happened and she was the last person left. She jumped backwards, hoping to put some distance between her and her opponent.

"Too slow." she heard as the monster swung the hammer from left to right so hard that when Shrix blocked it she was thrown into the wall on the opposite side of the Pit. She gasped in shock when her breath was knocked from her lungs upon impact, feeling the distinct white-hot burning of her entire right arm being broken and her ribs on the same side. She was terrified to look but did so anyways, nearly throwing up at the sight of her bones protruding through her skin. She could only use her left arm now, which was alright to her because Shrix was, in fact, left-handed. Not that it would matter much. "You're definitely more durable than your two cell-mates. Maybe when we're done I'll take your corpse with me." Shrix could feel an unfamiliar twinge of anger that did not belong to her in conjuction to her feeling of disgust and fear.

"What was that?" she asked, momentarily getting distracted from the fight. She shook herself from the thought and tried her best to concentrate despite the sharp pain and throbbing in her mutilated arm. This was not a good situation for her to be in. The man charged her again, and this time Shrix decided to retaliate instead of defend. On instinct, she ducked under her enemy's blow and swung up as hard as she could, cutting clean through the giant's arm, and severing the tendon in his other. His arms were now useless even if he won the fight. The next thing she knew she was laying on the ground on the opposite side of the pit, after having been kicked into the wall. Her stomach was now bleeding like a fountain.

"Just for that; I'll _definitely_ be taking your corpse with me!" he yelled, slowly walking over to her. She coughed up blood in response. Her body wouldn't move anymore, no matter how hard she tried to force it.

' _Dammit!'_ she cried in her head, feeling the warmth of a tear escaping one of her eyes. The wounds burned and stung worse than almost any pain she had ever experienced. _'Dread Father, Sithis! I beg you for help!'_ she closed her eyes and choked down a cry. _'I'll borrow that power! I'll give in to it! Dammit, I just need to live!'_

"Now, little Lizard…" she heard him directly over her, his breath nearly on her neck.

' _Caro, Vale, Riaz, Vala, Zassa…'_ she thought very suddenly, thinking of how she was leaving them behind if she died. _'Darkus!'_ her eyes bolted open with a look of absolute terror. "Someone, please! Help me!" the fear was so evident in her shriek that the monster even hesitated on finishing her off. He shook off her scream and pinned her high against the wall. _'I don't want to die like this! I'm begging someone to help me! I want to live!'_

"Die."

Her arm shot forwards on its own, impaling the monster's throat and granting him a mortal wound. She didn't know how she had done it, or what had happened, but she could move again. Her body didn't burn anymore, for one thing. She looked down at her arm to see it resetting and mending itself. The hole in her abdomen caused by being kicked by steel boots had also completely sealed itself. Her body seemed to glow almost golden for a few moments as she started to feel more alive and less dead.

"What… happened?" she asked herself upon hearing the doors open and the saw guards run in, Darkus on their heels. The men pointed swords at her until Darkus stepped between them.

"It's over." he proclaimed in an even voice. "She is alive, and he is dead. She is now a free woman, and you shall allow me to escort her out of this hole." he held out his hand expectantly, waiting several seconds for the head guard to hand him her key and shackles. Once again, Shrix was being put in cuffs, she realized.

"Cap'n, can we really just let 'er go like that?" one of the men asked. The woman merely stared Shrix down.

"Thane's orders. Stand down men, let's clean this place up." she replied, sheathing her weapon. "You are free to go." Darkus nodded, put Shrix in her bindings, and lead her into the dark hallway. She was silent until the two had gotten to a staircase and started to ascend it.

"Thank you." she murmured in a small voice.

"For what?" he inquired.

"You mean, you weren't the one that healed me?"

"You asked me to stay out of it, and I did." he replied, pushing the door at the top open to let the pair walk out into the blizzard. "Judging from the fact that your eyes momentarily turned a reptilian lavender, I'd guess it had something to do with your Argonian heritage." she massaged her wrists when he let them free.

"You mean the Histskin? I don't see how; I wasn't born in Argonia." she told him with her eyebrows slightly raised. "Speaking of Argonians; where's my brother?"

"He was watching the pit fights. He should be along any moment now." Darkus shrugged as the door opened behind him and Caro walked through. "Huh, look at that." Caro and Shrix immediately hugged each other with smiles.

"Gods, I thought you were dead out there!" he laughed when the two finally released each other.

"I did too." she admitted. "I didn't think I'd be getting out of there in one piece." Caro's mood seemed to shift, but only slightly.

"How did you end up healing yourself?" he wondered, now taking a closer look at her right arm. "I swear I could see the bones poking through…" Shrix grabbed her shoulder and flexed her fingers. He was right, of course, but Shrix had no idea what it could have been. "Did someone heal you? Vale wasn't with us, so it couldn't have been her." he turned around to face Darkus. "Was it you?" Darkus shook his head.

"Wasn't by my hand that your sister survived the Pit." he replied. "Personally, I think it was the Histskin that saved her. I was going to ask your opinion on this theory, but then Shrix told me that you two weren't born in Black Marsh." Caro gave her a small glare for revealing that to Darkus, but then seemed to decide to leave it alone.

"It's true that the two of us were born outside of our father's homeland," he began with a slight furrow to his brow. "So I would say Shrix is correct; the Hist would have no part of us." Darkus looked like he accepted his answer, and began walking away. The two siblings followed him through Windhelm closely, curious to where he was heading because the Palace was in the other direction.

"Where were you two born, anyhow?" He asked them when they reached the city's gates and pushed through them. Shrix opened her mouth to talk, but was quickly stopped by Caro. Caro was always overly cautious when it came to his family, but Shrix couldn't understand why he didn't trust Darkus. Then again, the two had never really communicated. When they didn't respond, Darkus began talking. "I was born in Morrowind; where my father was originally from."

"Skyrim." Caro told him after another moment. She supposed Caro just wanted information on Darkus first. "Right here; in Windhelm." Darkus paused, looking back. "Our father fought in the Legion, and later became a Dark Brotherhood Assassin, but he lived in Windhelm before any of that. He owned a house with our mother, and we were born inside the city walls." Shrix wondered how her brother knew that. She certainly could not remember living in the city before her induction into the Brotherhood.

"That's rather interesting to me." Darkus chuckled, walking to the end of the massive stone bridge. The Carriage driver was sitting on the ground with a bottle of mead sitting at his side when Darkus walked over to him. Darkus kicked him hard to shake him awake. "Winterhold." the man nodded with a squinted expression and clambered into the front of the cart. "Hop in if you like. I'm going to go check something out." Shrix immediately, without thinking, joined him.

"Sister!" Caro called as she climbed into the carriage. She turned to look at him with a confused expression.

"What?"

"You just got out of that hole, and the first thing you do is go on a ride?" he replied, crossing his arms. "Aren't you going to rest up a bit, or say hello to your comrades?" Shrix sighed.

"I suppose you're right," she said. "I should go say goodbye or something…"

"It's probably for the best." Darkus shrugged from his spot in the cart. "It's going to take a few weeks for me to finish what I'm doing up there, and I need someone to tell Lydia that I left- without telling her where I went, that is-" he gave Shrix a small smile. "Could you do that for me?" Shrix nodded. "Good. Caro, care to join me? I might need the assistance of another warrior."

"I would much rather not." Caro murmured, turning to take Shrix back to the city. Shrix stopped him by lightly pulling on his arm.

"Go with him. If I'm not going, you definitely are." she demanded. Caro let out a reptilian hiss and groan. "Fine. I'm going with him, and you can tell everyone that I'm out of the Pit." her brother snarled and turned back to the city.

"Damn, you're worse than mother!" he laughed when Shrix had climbed back into the cart. She gave her brother a small smile when he turned around to show her his before the cart began its departure.

She sat down opposite Darkus and looked up at the grey sky. The clouds suggested it was going to snow, and they seemed strangely still over her head. When she looked over to him, she found that he was also looking to the sky with a blank look. A sudden thought entered her mind, a question; what exactly was interesting to him?

"Why does my place of birth interest you?" she asked him after a moment. Darkus looked over at her and yawned.

"It just does." he shrugged, laying back in the cart. She kicked his foot. That wasn't an answer, not to her. "It interests me because of where you were born, and who your parents were."

"Please elaborate. You're starting to piss me off with that vague shit." she grumbled.

"Your father was an Argonian living under the rule of Ulfric Stormcloak." he explained in a neutral tone. "It's interesting that he lived inside the walls. I'm assuming your parents married for love; not many 'prestigious' Windhelm Nords would generally talk to one of your father's kind."

"My mother wasn't like any of those wretches. Besides, this was almost twenty five years ago." she strongly assured him. They were silent until Shrix decided to turn the tables on him. "So you and your father were born in Morrowind? How did that happen?"

"By coincidence." Darkus grunted with a slight frown. "My parents just happened to be on a small expedition to find some stupid artifact. My mother went into labor, and I was born in a bed of ash."

"What was the artifact?" she asked him.

"I think it was something they had meant for me." he replied. "Lydia once told me it was so I could be born without Sanies Lupinus or Sanguinare Vampiris, but as you could probably tell, it neither worked nor was found in time." he looked around for something to do before she spoke again.

"So, what are we doing going to Winterhold?" she questioned him. She should at least know why she was going to a different hold, she assumed. "Does it have something to do with your father?" Darkus didn't even have to nod before she knew she had hit it right on the mark.

"It does." he said. "My father's scent recently resurfaced up North. And South. And East and West. multiple times." Shrix looked at him confusedly. "I know; it doesn't make any sense." she nodded. "Maybe my senses are fucked, but I'm smelling almost ten people with the same exact scent as my father's. That's why we're going to Winterhold; they're the closest ones to us."

"Closest?"

"Technically, they're headed towards us. They're only a couple days from here, but I had to pay for the full ride to meet them." he explained. "I need to talk to them and find out what they know."

"I suppose that makes sense." Shrix shrugged, scratching the back of her head. "But what would they know that you don't?"

"They're moving with each other, so they obviously know that they're Dragonborn. One of them is a Lycan like me, so they'll be smelling me coming as well." he replied with a small smile. "They haven't changed their course yet, which means they're curious of me as well." Shrix didn't know if Darkus should have been cautious or confident, and didn't know which of those two he felt at that time.

"Do you even have a weapon on you?" she asked him when she noticed she hadn't seen anything on his vanity. He nodded. "Okay, well what is it?" he held up his hands briefly and smiled. "Very funny. You should've grabbed the sword I had in the Pit."

"It's fine." he grunted, looking into the distance. "There isn't anything else around for a long ways. Not anything threatening anyways." Shrix knew he was right, but she still didn't understand what he was planning on. He was far too calm for the insanity that just happened upon them.

"You're planning on fighting your father, aren't you?" she whispered in a deep voice.

"No, I'm making sure it's my father. There's a difference." he said.

"Whatever you say."

* * *

Taro-Li shivered a small bit and looked over at the Breton Dragonborn who looked almost completely fine in the cold land. She uttered a small hiss and kept walking. She still couldn't believe what Varnan had told her back in Winterhold, even though she could _feel_ it in her own soul. It angered her that in technical terms, she was talking to a human, male, older, version of herself and it confused her that she could argue and talk to herself without actually being considered insane.

"Where are we going? What are we looking for?" she asked him finally. "I could guess Windhelm from the direction, but there has to be a reason we aren't staying in Winterhold."

"No more of us have shown up in Winterhold. We're scattered all over Tamriel." he replied in a focused tone. She snarled at the Werebear's answer. "Aside from that; I smell someone who has a similar scent to ours."

"Of course you do; there are many of us out there!" she barked, pulling her cloak more tightly over her arms.

"No; we all smell _exactly_ the same." he said. "This scent is different. It only smells similar. There's a mixture of some other smell in this person; the smell of a different entity." Li gave him a golden glare.

"You said that in this world it's been twenty years since Helgen was destroyed; it's possible that this world's Dragonborn has a son?" she suggested, allowing an obviously mocking tone to enter her voice.

"I suppose we'll find out soon- he's heading in our direction with someone else." Varnan replied with an interested grin. The man had a strange behaviour pattern that intrigued Li moderately. From what she'd seen of him, he'd rather hide and sneak than fight, and he was charismatic when he needed to be. He was a strange Breton because he didn't use Magic of any kind with exception of the Voice, and instead carried a bow and dagger. He acted more like a Khajiit or a Wood Elf than he did a Human.

"Were you by chance raised in Elsweyr or Valenwood?" she accidentally let slip as she thought about it. He noticed her speaking immediately with his Lycanthropic ears.

"Yes; Valenwood. Why?" he asked without stopping.

"Apologies, I voiced my thoughts by accident." she replied with a small breath from being cold. "You don't seem to move or act much like a Breton is all." he nodded.

"I remind you more of elves and cats? Fair enough; you don't really remind me of an Argonian too much." he informed her. "Your speech is different and you aren't as stealthy as I would've thought. You're more… broad, if you don't mind me saying." Li did mind in actuality. She was built stronger and bigger than most Argonians, and even some Nord women. "You must have lived in a harsh environment, like an Imperial Legionnaire's house, or something."

"My family was entirely made up of Legionnaires." she said. "My grandfather was killed in the Great War of my world, and two of my brothers died in the Stormcloak Civil War." the Breton had told her before that he sympathized with the Legion rather than the Rebels.

"I never had brothers or sisters to worry about; just my mother. She's still alive in my world, and I was on my way to visit her when I woke up in this place." he revealed, taking a small dagger into his hands with considerable affection. "Gods, I hope I can see her again." Li nodded, as she wished to see her family again as well.

"How far up the road are they?"

"About two days," he said, stopping suddenly and walking off the road a few feet. "We could set up camp here and wait." he dropped the heavy pack off his shoulders and started pulling out the tent and furs to set up for them to sleep in. Li nodded, dropping the stuff she was carrying, and heading not far off to cut up a few dead trees with an axe.

After chopping up the trees for a few hours, the two of them finally had a sizeable fire to sit beside. Because of the snow, her backside and tail were still cold, but at least the rest of her was warm because of her enchanted armor and the fire in conjunction to one another. It was already dark out and it had started snowing.

"I think I'll head 'er on in. I'm tired." she announced, standing up and walking over to her bedroll. The Breton nodded, staying where he was. Li knew from Line that Lycanthropes don't often sleep, and when they do, they don't sleep very well.

"I'll wake you up if anything happens." he yawned, looking up at the waxing moon. Li didn't bother taking her armor off, and instead just decided to lay down in her blankets. She managed to fall asleep after a few minutes and was subsequently woken up in the morning with what felt like a lot less of a sleep.

"That sleep was terrible," she groaned when she noticed the Breton stocking the fire again. "Are we staying here? I thought we would be moving on." Varnan shrugged.

"I don't see the point; the two have picked up their pace and will be here by the end of the day." he replied, looking down the road for a few minutes. He then sat down by the fire again and started packing a lot of snow into one of their pots, and hold it over the fire. As the snow melted, he continuously put more and more snow into it until he had enough water boiling to fill two bowls. "How did you sleep?"

"Not very well." she said, watching him pour some oats into the two bowls and adding some sugar before holding one out to her with a wooden spoon. She accepted the bowl and began eating her breakfast. "It was a little too cold."

"I thought so. You were shivering an awful lot." he sighed, eating his breakfast with a disgruntled expression. "Honestly, I hate this stuff. I'd rather eat meat, but that stuff never lasts long enough to make it anywhere." Li agreed with him in that regard, though she supposed he had more of a reason for it than her.

"What do we do to pass the time until they get here?" she wondered, finishing off her bowl and giving it back to him. Varnan shrugged.

"We could talk about our worlds. What year did you kill Alduin in?"

"Er, it was two years after he destroyed Helgen." she answered, able to remember the triumphant day clearly. "What about you?"

"A month before I was taken here. Sovngarde is a beautiful place, huh?" he smiled, causing the Argonian to nod. He seemed to think about something else for a moment. "How's Lydia in your world?" Li was taken aback and didn't know how to respond. There was no one in her world named Lydia.

"I'm sorry, I don't know who that is." she said.

"Weren't you also made Thane of Whiterun? She would have been your Housecarl." he explained with a raised brow.

"My Housecarl's name is Line." Li told him. "He's an average boy with dark hair and a well-built frame." Varnan seemed to drop the idea of continuing to talk about those two. "So the people in the worlds are also different?"

"It would seem so." he grunted. "I wonder if we exist in this world as well…"

"What do you mean, Varnan?"

"I'm merely wondering if there's an Argonian here called Taro-Li and a Breton named Varnan who aren't the Dragonborn." he replied in a small chuckle. "It's odd to think about, but then again it's even more odd to believe that we don't exist at all in this world, or any other for that matter, except our own." Li thought about his words for a few minutes and found that he was right; it was odd to think about that.

"Both of those things are possible, I suppose." she murmured, looking at the snow. She then thought to bring up a question she'd had for quite some time. "How did you become a Werebear anyways?" Varnan seemed to smile at the memory.

"I was on an adventure in High Rock before I came to Skyrim, and well, you can guess what happened from there," he shrugged, before then shifting in his spot and frowning. "Then again, it did happen rather unconventionally… the bear didn't bite me; I drank her blood by accident. I was close friends with a woman who went missing in the province, and went looking for her. Long story short, I found her in a cave not too far from Daggerfall and I started bringing her food and other supplies. One time when we were sharing a drink, it turned out the bottle had broken and cut her lip."

"So that's how you accidentally drank Lycanthrope blood…" she drooped, thinking about how stupid he was for not noticing something that should have been obvious to him before it even happened. "You truly are an idiot, aren't you?"

"You know, in a way-" he started.

"Yes yes, I'm aware that I'm calling myself stupid as well." she snapped, cutting him off. She realized that it would be a _very_ long day if this was all they were doing while they waited for the two people to show up. "Should we just head down the road to make the a little less?"

"I have no qualms with just sitting here until they arrive." he said, yawning and looking around for something else to do. She laughed into her hands upon noticing this, but decided to change the subject.

"You think any of us are Conjurers, or Mages?"

"Well, when you consider the differences between the two of us, how could any of them not?" he shrugged, pausing to think about it for a moment. "I'd say definitely." Again, Li supposed he had to be correct.

"Fair…"

Li couldn't help but wonder about this new world. It wasn't just odd to her because she was currently in the future, sitting next to a different version of what was technically herself. It was odd, not because it sounded the same, looked the same, or acted the same. It was because it _felt_ different. It felt like it was a completely different world, like there was something that made not real. The world itself felt like it was more alive, in a sense.

"I see you're also feeling strange in this world." Varnan announced, interrupting her train of thought. "It doesn't feel normal to you either, does it?"

"Yes." Li agreed. "Does it feel like the land itself is just waiting to come alive to you too?"

"It does." he replied, with a slightly confused look. "I don't understand what that could possibly mean though." he sighed and took some of the snow from the ground into his hand. "Maybe it has something to do with Daedra and Aedra, or something like that…"

"You told me that there was a war with Aldmeri Dominion going on," she suggested. "Perhaps that has something to do with it." Varnan shrugged. A few hours later, Li finally got sick of waiting, stood up, and walked to the road.

"Where are you going?" he asked her, getting up himself.

"I'm bored of just sitting here and waiting!" she snapped, quickly grabbing her pack and putting everything she carried back into it. "I'm going to go meet them on the road."

"They'll be here in a little while," he grumbled, packing up the rest of their camp and running down the road to follow her. "We could've just waited."

"If they're as close as you're saying, we should be able to shorten the time by moving to them." she said with a small hiss. The two walked for only a half hour before they could see a pair of running humanoids off in the distance. Because of the fact that they were in an open, hilly, field suggested that the two pairs were around a kilometer and a half away from each other.

"See? We should have just stayed where we were." he said, crossing his arms.

"Shut up," she groaned, squinting to try and get a better look at the two. One was very tall and the other was very short, so Li deduced that they were probably a man and a woman. "I wonder who they are…"

Once they'd gotten closer, Li could make out their outfits. The shorter one was wearing a large dark cloak, and the taller one was wearing a plain white shirt under a leather tunic, as well as dark pants and boots. They both had dark hair, but only the tall one's hair was black. Li looked over to Varnan to see him setting up camp a little ways off the road once again, and then looked back at the running pair with a small sigh.

When the two got close enough that they decided they could walk over to Li and Varnan, she became confused. Both of them looked like young women, the only exception was that the tall one wore a black eyepatch that covered much of the left side of their face. That one appeared to be angered and somewhat confused as well.

"Speak your name, Argonian." the tall one ordered, revealing that they were in fact a man. His voice didn't match his face whatsoever. The woman next to him hit him for some reason, which caused the man to give her a small, momentary glare. "I apologize, Shrix."

"Damn right, you do!" the young woman grunted, turning away from him.

"Will you please tell me your name, Dragonborn?" he asked more politely, before turning to the girl again. "Happy now?" the girl he called Shrix didn't respond, and merely pulled the cloak tighter over herself.

"You must be the Lycanthrope," Li observed, putting her hands on her hips. "I am Taro-Li. I am the Dragonborn." she then turned and pointed to Varnan. "He is Varnan; also the Dragonborn." the Werebear waved from where he was setting up camp.

"A Werebear-?" he asked aloud when his eyes fell upon the Breton. "Hello, Varnan and Taro-Li," he started, extending his right hand. "I am Darkus Lite." Li wondered what kind of name that was. He didn't look like the typical Nord, but he wasn't a Breton, Redguard, or Imperial. "I'm the son of the Dragonborn." Varnan stopped what he was doing immediately, and Li paused as well.

"You're… the son?" Li wondered aloud.

"Indeed. I do have to say; you're a lot different than I was expecting." he said, walking over to Varnan with Shrix and sitting down by the fire in the snow. "For one thing; you two look nothing like my father did."

"Your father? The Dragonborn is a man in this world?" Varnan inquired, finishing the tent up before joining the three. "Who was he?" Darkus shrugged.

"He was a Nord, but other than that, I never knew him." he admitted, looking at the two Dragonborn. "He died before I ever got to know him. As did my mother." Li suddenly felt her heart drop. She knew she would die eventually, but she never thought she would die in such a short time.

"So… what year is it that this happened?" she asked, fearing for her own life at that moment; not realizing that her destiny was not predetermined by this world's Dragonborn's. Darkus took a minute to think.

"Let's see, I'm sixteen now…" he started, looking up at the sky. "It had to be… year two hundred eight?" Li thought for a moment that she only had until she was thirty for a moment before she calmed herself and realized that she was _not_ the Dragonborn of that world. She could decide when she returned. "Anyways, you two will probably be fine. Depending on what happens in your world, the events and circumstances will be different. You could live and die as a normal person, or like a warrior, or even a king, or scholar."

"I see," Varnan breathed, evident that he had also been scared by what Darkus had told them. "That's a relief." he then let out a small chuckle. "So who raised you?"

"My father's first Housecarl and friend, Lydia." he answered, causing Varnan to laugh. Darkus looked confused. "Varn, I don't know what world you live in; but Lydia is no laughing matter. I have a very strong feeling Lydia is actually on her way of tracking me down and kicking my ass for leaving Windhelm like I did."

"Lydia became a better fighter by this time in her life?" Varnan asked, still laughing as he seemed to find it hard to believe. Darkus wasn't having it.

"First off; that's pretty much my mother you're mocking," he replied sternly. "And second; Lydia is considered the second-best swordmaster in Skyrim. She's a marvelous swordswoman, and can often move faster than the mortal eye can track." that seemed to shut Varnan up.

"I apologize, young man." Varnan said, bowing slightly to the young boy. "I did not realize you considered Lydia to be the maternal figure in your life." Darkus shrugged.

"It doesn't matter," he shrugged. "The real problem is why you're here, in my father's world. Do you have any clue?" Varnan and Li shook their heads. "Great, another thing I have to-" he was cut off by a sudden roar from in the distance. Li knew this scream well; it was the scream of a very specific Dragon.

"Alduin?!" Varnan and Li screamed at the same time, standing up and looking at the mass quickly approaching them. Li was surprised that Darkus seemed to look more annoyed than afraid.

"Great, what does he want?" he grunted, standing up to look at the approaching Dragon. Darkus looked afraid after he noticed, like Li, that there was someone riding the God. "Oh. Lydia is riding a Dragon…" a few minutes later, Alduin landed. A black swirling vortex engulfed him as an aged woman with dark hair jumped off his back and walked over to the camp. Moments later there was a man dressed in black robes standing in Alduin's place.

"That's Lydia?!" Varnan asked, still walking backwards as the woman and man approached the campsite. The woman stepped up to the young boy and glared at him menacingly for several seconds.

"What in Oblivion do you think you're doing?!" the woman yelled at the top of her lungs, shaking the very ground with her voice as she grabbed the hem of Darkus' shirt and punched him hard in the jaw. Darkus staggered backwards but didn't fall down. "Leaving like that! The nerve of you, young man!"

"I'm sorry, okay?" he called back in a smaller tone, waving his arms in front of him.

"Do you have _any_ idea what it's like every single time you do something like this?" she interrupted, walking closer to him than before. "You are the only thing left of your parents! Their legacy! I know you can defend yourself out here, but Divines!"

"I said I was sorry!" he said again, leaning away from Lydia's angered snarl. "There was something I had to check out!" it was at that point that the man who appeared when Alduin disappeared stepped in and grabbed Lydia's shoulder.

"You shouldn't be so hard on him," he began his deep voice telling Li that this was still Alduin. "He's an adult, you know." Lydia almost immediately rounded on the Immortal and punched him in the gut as well. Alduin fell to the ground in a coughing fit.

"Who the fuck is this lady?" Li stared, wide eyed at the sight of her. Varnan seemed to be intrigued by the woman.

"She's certainly… not aged…" he murmured, walking up to take a closer look at the somewhat taller woman. Lydia seemed to not like what he was doing, but didn't hit him or bark at him in the meantime. "You'd have to be in your forties by now… why do you only look two or three years older than the last time I saw you?"

"I don't even know who you are! Stay out of this, it doesn't concern you!" Lydia barked at the Breton, turning back to talk to Darkus.

"Well, actually…" Darkus began with a light chuckle. "They kind of do… they're the reason I came out here in the first place…"

"Oh yeah? And who are they?" She asked in a low growl. Alduin, who was just getting up from being punched by Lydia, tapped her arm.

"It's like I said before…" he breathed, the wind still knocked out of him. "They're both Dragonborn from different worlds." Lydia let out an exhasperated sigh.

"I find that hard to believe, as I said before," she grumbled, putting a pair of fingers to her temple. She was getting a headache from just that?

"We found it difficult as well, woman." Li interrupted her. "That is, until we proved it by shouting, and found out that we all share the same scent." Lydia only grumbled more.

"It's true; they all have the same _exact_ smell as my dad used to." Darkus confirmed, finally making Lydia relax and let out an angry breath. "I needed to confirm it."

"He wanted to challenge them to a fight." Shrix explained as Darkus finished talking.

"I know what he meant when he said 'confirm'," Lydia remarked, hitting the top of Darkus' head lightly. She then turned to Alduin. "Fine, I suppose it's possible to believe that you two are, in a way, my old friend and Thane. Where were you two planning on going? What are you doing here?" Varnan shrugged.

"We aren't sure." Li admitted, looking down at the snow.

"It's because of Alkridiir." Alduin explained when he could finally talk without wheezing. Li's scaled brow quirked.

"The fuck's an Alkridiir?" she asked, thinking it was some sort of dragon. Alduin chuckled and looked at the two Dragonborn.

"Alkridiir is not an it; he's this world's Dragonborn," he replied, pausing a moment after to think about something. "And, in a way, he's my brother…" everyone except for Darkus and Lydia looked completely shocked and confused.

"What does that mean-?" Varnan began, his voice faltering.

"Let's see, er…" Alduin started, probably thinking of how he could possibly explain. "In this version of history, I was much more powerful than in yours. I didn't leave Helgen in ruins- I barely left a trace of its existence." once that point seemed to get across he continued. "Apparently my father, in some Lore, Akatosh, decided that the Dragonborn needed to be more powerful in this world as well. Alkridiir, an Akaviri descended Nord, who was actually more or less a Dragon himself, was born into a Nordic family living in Morrowind. His family was destroyed in an Orc raid, and he was then taken in by the Orc Chieftain and his only wife. Anyways, that's enough history for him…" Alduin then seemed to think hard about his next event. "This next part's a little fuzzy… there was a massive army- ranging in the thousands- of dragons on the way, Alkridiir and his wife took them on by themselves… something about ten Elder Scrolls… Dragon souls… a barrier of some sort, along with some Daedric Artifacts…"

"How long is gonna prattle on like this?" Darkus asked Lydia curiously. The dragon looked to be in a stupefied state. Darkus walked over to him and tapped his shoulder. "Dumbass, snap out of it."

"Apologies," Alduin said, blinking and coming back to reality. "Anyways; many things happened and you were brought to this time to aid in the defeat of a dragon army. You can't expect only a single Dragonborn to deal with all of these things on his own, after all."

"Yes, because two more Dragonborn are totally going to help with that…" Taro-Li said in a mocking tone, rolling her golden colored eyes.

"Twenty." Darkus replied, making Li start. "Including you two, there are twenty other Dragonborn in this world. That is, of course, not including Alduin at the moment."

"Twenty?!" Li exclaimed, turning on Varnan. "Why didn't you say anything?!"

"Because I didn't think it was important!" he replied, waving his hands as the rather tall Argonian got closer to him with her hands on her weapon. "I just figured we'd all figure it out eventually, so there wasn't any point." Li could feel her eyes twitch briefly.

"Whatever, we more or less know what we're doing now anyways." she murmured, hissing a small amount as she went back to her spot and sat down. "Where should we be going anyways? If we aren't in our own worlds anymore, our reputations in Holds and Cities don't exist. We don't have houses or titles, not even money that we've saved up in banks."

"I actually have a few words to speak upon that matter," Alduin replied with a light smile. It made Li feel uneasy, at best. "I was thinking High Hrothgar, or the Throat of the World." Li immediately shivered at the thought. "It would make the most sense. No one, save for the Greybeards, make their way up there. If you want a place to stay that's secluded, you could all go there."

"That's a stupid idea, Dragon." Darkus cut in, getting off the ground. "The best bet for them is to make it in the world as normal citizens. They'll have to do what they did before they were the Dragonborn. In the meantime, we should head back to Lakeview."

"What about Caro, Vale, Vala, Zassa, and Riaz?" Shrix asked, standing as well. "Won't they still be in Windhelm?" Lydia seemed to remember something.

"I sent them on ahead to Lakeview, as it was where I was planning to take Darkus and you when I caught up to you." she answered, motioning for Alduin to do something. The Dragon nodded, and walked back into the open snowfield, where he turned back into his Dragon form. "Hop on the Dragon's back; we should return to the house immediately." Darkus groaned but did as the Nord said without further argument.

"It was pleasant meeting you two." he told the Dragonborn as he walked over to the overgrown lizard. "Though I have to say I'm a bit disappointed; I was looking forward to kicking my old man's ass." Lydia hit the side of his head when he finished talking, and then sat silent. "Right. See you in the near future." and with that the Dragon flew off into the distance with Darkus, Lydia, and Shrix on his back. Once they were gone, the pair decided to pack up camp and move on.

"We should probably go our separate ways, don't you think?" Varnan asked when they'd stuffed the tent back into the pack. Li stared at him.

"Why? We'd have a better chance of living if we stuck together, wouldn't we?" she replied. "Besides; we forgot to ask them why the world felt so different from ours. That could be a problem; we haven't run into much more than a few Bandits in this land together." Varnan shrugged.

"I mean, Alduin kind of answered it for us, didn't he?" Varnan thought, his brow slightly furrowed. "Alduin was more powerful in this version of History, so the Dragonborn needed to be more powerful right? Well, maybe in this version of History, everything is more powerful. Maybe the world itself just holds more power and because of where we come from, it just feels abundant and it's actually normal here."

"What were you? Some sort of philosopher?" she wondered when he'd finished talking. Varnan nodded before shaking his head and then shrugging. "Well, which is it?"

"I was one a few years before I got to Helgen, but after that I was almost strictly an adventurer." he laughed, causing Li to momentarily join in before stopping suddenly.

"Wait a moment Varnan," she said, thinking long and hard. "If you can smell us all across Skyrim, does that mean other Werebeasts would be able to as well?" Varnan's sudden gulp of realization of who she was talking about confirmed her thoughts. "The…"

"Companions of Whiterun…" they both said at the same time.

"Well… shit."


End file.
